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The Dauphin, Louis XVII. of France. 



3eauche.5ue.^ Made. Hyac^yiflie. du^loisde 

THE BOURBON PRINCE. 

THE HISTORY 



THE ROYAL DAUPHIN, 



LOUIS XVII. OF FRANCE. 



NEW YORK: 
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 

329 & 331 PEARL STREET, 
FBANKLIN SQUABK. 

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PREFACE. 



This little book has been derived from the 
large French work of De Beauchesne, Louis 
XVIL, Sa Vie, Son Agonie, Sa Tkfor^, of which 
the freest use has been made. The object of the 
writer has been to present, in a condensed and 
popular form, that portion of the elaborate vol- 
umes of the French author which bears direct- 
ly upon the personal history of the Dauphin, so 
that the reader might have in its unity, unen- 
cumbered with unnecessary historical detail, 
the life of the young prince. 

The writer acknowledges that while he is 
loyal to the truth of history, he also appeals to 
the universal suffrage of the public taste, and 
hopes that the claims of his book may be forti- 
fied both by the right of tradition and the vote 
of popular favor. 

There is no more interesting and affecting 
chapter in French history than the story of the 
life, captivity, and death of Louis XYII. ; and 
the constantly shifting scenes of revolutionary 
France exhibit no drama with greater variety 



X Preface. 

of movement or with deeper tragic interest than 
the sad, changeful, though brief life of the roy- 
al Dauphin. 

The death of the son of Louis XVI. and Marie 
Antoinette has been accepted by the writer as 
an historical fact established by the full, mi- 
nute, and well-considered testimony of De Beau- 
chesne beyond any chance of doubt on the part 
of the intelligent and honest, and even of cavil, 
from the skeptical and disputatious. 

R. T. 

New York, March 5, 1853. 




Versailles— Front View. 




Versailles— Court Yard. 



THE BOURBON PRINCE. 



Chapter I. 



LOUIS CHARLES of France and of Bour- 
bon, the second son of Louis XVL, king 
of France, and of Marie Antoinette, was born 
in the palace of Versailles on the 27th day of 
March, 1785, at five minutes past seven in the 
evening. 

Contrary to the usual custom in France, of 
postponing the baptism of the royal children 
for some years, he was baptized on the day of 
his birth by the Cardinal De Rohan and the 
Abbe Brocqueveille. He received the title of 
the Duke of Normandy, a title that had not 
been borne by any of the royal family since 
the fourth son of Charles YII. 

There was great joy on the occasion through- 
out France. The cannon of the Bastile re-ech- 
oed the cannon of the Invalides. Bonfires were 
lighted, bells chimed, fiie- works blazed, and 



14 The Bourbon Prince. 

there was a popular exclamation of delight ev 
ery where. 

During the journey, on the following year, 
that Louis XYI. made to Cherbourg, the en- 
thusiastic loyalty of the people astonished the 
courtiers. The king was delighted, and often 
referred to the visit with visible emotions of 
pleasure, and congratulated himself for having 
given the name of that beautiful province to 
his second son. " Come, my little Normand," 
he used to say to him, as he pressed him to his 
arms, " your name will bring you good luck." 

The Dauphin died at Meudon, on the 4th of 
June, 1789. Until this time, the infancy of 
the Duke of Normandy had passed almost un- 
observed. The death of his elder brother at- 
tracted to him the regard and hope of France, 
and bestowed upon him the title of the Dau- 
phin. In the happiness of infancy, he could 
not understand the responsibility of this inher- 
itance, so terrible in the future ; and of all his 
brother's succession, the child alone appreciated 
the immediate possession of a pretty little dog, 
called Moufflet, which had belonged to the Dau- 
phin, and which now belonged to him. 

Louis XYL, whose children shared equally 
in his affections, felt that peculiar interest in 
the young Duke of Normandy that a king 



His Beauty. 15 

should feel in one whose birth called him to 
occupy, after him, the throne. The queen, on 
her side, bestowed upon him the most attentive 
and assiduous care ; she desired to be the in- 
structress as well as the mother of her son. 

He was at that time a little over four years 
of age. His form was slender, lithe, delicate, 
and his step full of grace ; his forehead large 
and open, his eyebrows arched. It would be 
difficult to paint the angelic beauty of his large, 
blue eyes, fringed with their long, dark eye- 
lashes ; his complexion, of an astonishing pu- 
rity, was touched with the freshest carnation ; 
his hair, a light flaxen, curled naturally, and 
fell in thick ringlets upon his shoulders. He 
had the ruby lips of his mother, and, like her, a 
small dimple in his chin. In his features, which 
were alike noble and gentle, might be observed 
something of the dignity of Marie Antoinette 
and the goodness of Louis XYI. All his move- 
ments were full of grace and vivacity. There 
was in his manner, in his address, a certain ex- 
quisite distinction and an indescribable child- 
like frankness, which charmed all those who 
approached him. He never spoke but to utter 
the most amiable and innocent things. On be- 
holding him, he was admired, and, on hearing 
him, he was beloved. Children and princes, for 



16 The Bourbon Prince. 

the most part, are selfish ; but he had neither 
the selfishness of princes nor the selfishness of 
children, who are kings in their way. He only- 
thought of others ; he was tender to those who 
loved him, attentive to those who spoke to him, 
kind to those who visited him, courteous to ev- 
ery one. These excellent qualities were, how- 
ever, tempered by a singular vivacity and im- 
patience ; he yielded with difficulty to the con- 
trol of the women in his service, and struggled 
with all the force of his years against the es- 
tablished regulation about going to bed and 
getting up. His indocility always yielded at 
the sight of his mother. 

In his mother he recognized the ascendency 
of authority as well as the influence of affection. 
And she, in turn, had for him both love and re- 
spect. This elevated and tender instructress 
knew how to form his character, correct his 
faults, and, at the same time, to spare him any 
suffering. Having taken upon herself his ed- 
ucation before he was placed under the care 
of tutors, there were no sort of means she did 
not contrive to adapt to his capacity the first 
elements of study. As in the beginning learn- 
ing presents no attraction, she did not urge it 
upon him as a serious duty ; she sought, above 
all, to inspire him with a taste and a desire for 



His Intelligence. 17 

it. She read to him, or made others read to 
him, those simple stories, intelligible moralities, 
and those interesting as well as instructive fa- 
bles that the genius of Lafontaine, the talent 
of Perrault and of Berquin have brought with- 
in the capacity of childhood ; and it was thus 
that the prince acquired his first lessons as a 
recreation. These readings presented an op- 
portunity of remarking the intelligence of the 
young pupil. He listened with great atten- 
tion, and his animated countenance reflected 
all the action and incidents of the little stories 
that were read to him. Bursts of admiration 
escaped him at the recitation of those things 
which were clear to his intelligence ; those that 
were beyond it, and appeared confused and un- 
intelligible, would raise a cloud upon his con- 
templative face ; and then he would utter a 
hundred questions, each more artless than the 
other, original remarks, ingenious reflections 
which often surprised his listeners, and gave 
to them the highest and happiest augury of the 
intellectual future of the royal child. 

The sensibility of his heart, the refinement 
of his feelings, corresponded with the acuteness 
of his intellect and the nobleness of his charac- 
ter. After the familiar conversations which al- 
ways followed the reading lessons, the queen 
B 



18 The Bourbon Prince. 

ordinarily took lier place at the harp or the harp- 
sichord ; and what she had done to give her son 
a taste for reading she also did to endow him 
with a fondness for music. She played for him 
some little expressive airs that she had learned 
or composed for him, and she was delighted to 
see, by the movements of the head of the child 
or his radiant face, that his ear was sensible to 
the charms of harmony. One evening, at St. 
Cloud, his mother sung to her own accompani- 
ment the pretty romance of " U Ami des En- 
fants ;" 

" Dors, mon enfant, clos ta paupiere, 
Tes cris me dechirent le cceur ; 
Dors mon enfant, ta pauvre mere 
A bien assez de sa douleur!" 

This verse and these words, " ta pauvre mere," 
sung with feeling, deeply affected the heart of 
the Dauphin, who, silent and motionless in his 
little chair, was all eyes and all ears at the side 
of the harpsichord. Madame Elizabeth, who 
was present, surprised to see him so quiet, said 
to him, with a smile, " Oh, to be sure, Charles is 
fast asleep !" Suddenly raising his head, he 
replied, with an expression full of feeling, " Oh! 
my dear aunt, can one sleep when he hears my 
mamma, the queen ?" 

There was a child, whose precocious quali- 



His little Unclf. 19 

ties and heroic death had left in the memory 
of the royal family and of France a remem- 
brance and a sorrow, of which the Marquis De 
Pompignan had made himself both the inter- 
preter and the consoler, in writing, with a touch- 
ing simplicity, the " Life of the Duke of Bur- 
gundy," son of the G-rand Dauphin, and elder 
brother of Louis XYL 

It was in this book, dedicated to the memory 
of a child who had died at nine years of age, at 
the termination of the most painful sufierings, 
borne with extraordinary courage, that Louis 
Charles learned to read ! Strange coincidence ! 
Louis XYL, while a youth, had, as an exercise 
in the English language, translated the " Life 
of Charles the First ;" and the Dauphin, while 
a child, had, as his first reading-book, the " Life 
of the Last Duke of Burgundy I" It was thus 
that, in the study of the past, the future of the 
father and the son were sadly reflected. 

This book was not only for Louis Charles a 
book to be read — its hero became an object of 
emulation. The simple traits of the childhood 
of his little uncle, and the example of his early 
virtues, were appreciated with a lively interest 
by the young nephew. Induced equally by self- 
love and by his nobler instincts, he inquired if 
he resembled him, and desired to see his por- 



20 The Bourbon Prince. 

trait. He was presented with a very well exe- 
cuted one on a bonbon box. He examined it 
for a long time with a sort of w^onder, and kiss- 
ing it in a serious and earnest manner, said, 
" How, then, did my little uncle manage to have 
so soon so much learnins; and wisdom ?" 

Louis XYL, contrary to established usage, did 
not surround his son with a court. He feared 
that, by surrounding him with a number of of- 
ficers, gentlemen, and domestics, he might be 
exposed to the dangerous influence of flattery. 
He desired that all who approached him might 
alone inspire his son with a love of virtue and 
glory. 

The heir to the throne had the Duchess of 
Polignac, an intimate friend of the queen, for 
his governess, and the Abbe Davaux for his tu- 
tor. But, while appointing a tutor to his son, 
Louis XVL may be said to have reserved to 
himself the amiable duties of guardian, for it 
was his own plan that was followed in the edu- 
cation of his child. 

While the prince was yet of tender age, the 
grace and the shrewdness of his repartees were 
remarkable. 

One day, while studying his lesson, he began 
to hiss. He was reprimanded for it. The queen 
came and rebuked him. " Mamma," he re- 



A MATERNAL LeSSON. 21 

plied, " I said my lesson so badly that I was 
hissing myself,"' Another day, while in the 
garden, carried away by his impetuosity, he 
threw himself into the rose-bushes. An attend- 
ant running up to him said, " One of those 
thorns might put out your eyes or scratch your 
face." He answered, in a noble and firm man- 
ner, " Thorny paths lead to glory I" 

When the queen was informed of this an- 
swer, she sent immediately for the Dauphin, 
and said to him, " My child, you have quoted a 
very true maxim ; but you have not properly 
applied it. There is no glory in losing our eyes 
solely for the pleasure of running and playing. 
If it had been to destroy a dangerous animal, to 
withdraw a person from danger, or to expose your 
life to save that of another, it might be called 
glory ; but what you did was only folly and im- 
prudence. Wait, my child ; before you speak 
of glory, wait until you are old enough to read 
the history of your ancestors and the heroes of 
France — G-uesclin, Bayard, Turenne, D'Assas, 
and so many others, who have defended France 
and our crown at the cost of their blood." This 
lesson, given with a feeling of tenderness and 
the authority of reason, made a deep impression 
upon the heart of the young prince, who at first 
blushed, then, seizing the hand of his mother, 



22 The Bourbon Prince. 

he kissed it, and said, with a graceful readiness, 
" My glory, my dear mamma, shall be in fol- 
lowing your advice and obeying you." 

Never did a child love his mother more dear- 
ly ; there are no proofs of tenderness that he did 
not seek to give her. He had observed that she 
was fond of flowers, and his first occupation 
every morning was to run out, in the company 
of a maid and his faithful dog, Moufflet, into 
the gardens of Versailles, and to pluck a bou- 
quet to put upon the toilet-table of the queen 
before she rose in the morning. Each day there 
was a fresh harvest of flowers, and each day his 
happy mother was able to see that the first act 
of her son was in her behalf, as well as his first 
prayer. When bad weather prevented his going 
out, and consequently the usual supply of flow- 
ers, he used to say, with an expression of re- 
gret, " I am not satisfied with myself! I shall 
not have deserved to-day my mother's kiss." 

The king witnessed, with true happiness, as 
with a tender anxiety, the loving disposition of 
his child, and his pious reverence for his mother. 
He took pleasure in assisting in his exercises ; 
he looked over his copy-books, he examined him 
himself almost every day, he watched him at 
play, in order to become better acquainted with 
Ijis tastes and his character. He was delighted 



HisownG-arden. 23 

to see in him such gentle and pure inclinations, 
and tastes so proper for the development of the 
strength of his body. It was in order to culti- 
vate this taste, and to encourage this disposition, 
that he gave to him for his own a little piece 
of ground in front of his apartments, upon the 
terrace of the palace, and presented him with 
a rake, a spade, a water-pot, and the other nec- 
essary gardening tools. 

It was there where the prince passed his mo- 
ments of leisure during the intervals of study. 
He insisted upon being the only gardener of his 
little plot ; and it was by no means the worst 
kept of all the park. " My father," said he, one 
day, " gave me this garden, that I might take 
care of it myself." But he added, after a slight 
pause, and with a charming air, " I am only 
the farmer ; the produce is for mamma." It 
was a source of great delight to him to witness 
the growth and the flowers of the plants that 
he had watered. His bouquets each morning 
appeared to him much prettier, since he made 
them of the flowers from his own garden. A 
gentleman of the court, observing him one day 
digging with so much ardor, that the perspira- 
tion deluged his forehead and flowed down upon 
his cheeks, said to him, "You are very good, 
your highness, to fatigue yourself so. Why do 



24 The Bourbon Prince. 

you not order some one to work for you? A 
gardener could do this work in an instant." — 
" It is possible," answered the child, '' but I 
wish to, and I must, grow these flowers myself; 
they would be less acceptable to mamma if any 
one else grew them." 

The charms and the precocious intellect of 
the Dauphin had already acquired a certain 
vogue at court, which began to spread further, 
and many things were said of the amiable little 
prince, which excited a desire to see and know 
him. A lady, who kept a famous boarding- 
school in Paris, came one day to St. Cloud for 
this purpose, and begged of a lady of the court, 
whom she knew, the favor of being presented, 
with three of her pupils who accompanied her, 
to the Dauphin. The queen hastened to grant 
this favor, and, to heighten its value, offered to 
receive the lady and her pupils, and present them 
herself to her son. The three young persons 
and their mistress trembled with emotion ; but 
the imposing dignity of the queen became gen- 
tle and affable, in order to reassure them. The 
mistress, before retiring, having asked, in behalf 
of her pupils, the privilege of kissing the hand 
of the royal child, the prince yielded to this de- 
sire with a grace all the more charming, since 
it appeared to be humiliated by what it gave. 



His Justice. 25 

Afterward, having withdrawn his little hand 
that the young girls had just kissed, he ap- 
proached their mistress, who had withdrawn 
herself to a respectful distance, and, with an 
exquisite appreciation of age and position, he 
said to her, lifting up his radiant face, " You, 
madam, kiss me on the forehead, I beseech 
you." 

If this interview and these words give an 
idea of the tact of the young prince, the follow- 
ing anecdote will show his sense of justice : 
The child had, in one of his walks, taken away 
the flute of a young page who accompanied 
him, and had roguishly hid it in a yew-tree on 
the garden terrace. The queen having been 
told of this piece of mischief, thought it neces- 
sary to punish him, not in his own person, but 
in an object of his affection. The poor dog, 
Moufflet, suffered punishment for the trick of his 
master ; his companion in all his amusements, 
he was treated in this affair as an accomplice, 
and was condemned to suffer in his stead. Shut 
up in a dark closet, deprived of his liberty and 
of the sight of his master, the poor animal kept 
scratching at the door, growling and yelping 
with all his strength. His cries reached the 
heart of the really guilty one, who, full of pity 
for his beloved dog, went, all in tears, in search 



26 The Bourbon Prince. 

of the queen : " Mamma, it is not Moufllet who 
is guilty," said he, '• and therefore Moufllet 
ought not to be punished. Let him out, I beg 
you, and I will take his place." This favor be- 
ing granted, the young prince really did take 
the place of the innocent one, and condemned 
himself to an imprisonment much longer than 
the term prescribed. That was not all. In the 
solitude of the closet he began to reflect upon 
his conduct, and said to himself, if his fault w^as 
expiated, it was not repaired ; and the first use 
he made of his liberty was to go and find the 
flute and give it back to his comrade. 

Some foreboding fears soon mingled with the 
joys which saluted the royal cradle — some 
gloomy mutterings of the Revolution began to 
be heard. 

"While the passions of the French people were 
in agitation in the Assembly, and unchained 
in the streets, the Dauphin was little troubled 
by these excitements, and did not mind them 
except as they appeared to affect his mother, 
but passed his hours of recreation in his gar- 
den, in peace ; he w^atched with the most at- 
tentive interest the growth of his flowers, not- 
ing, until the evening, those that were to com- 
pose his bouquet of the next morning. 

One day Louis XVI. having called him, and 



The Revolution. 27 

said to liim, " To-morrow, you know, will be a 
great day, your mother's birth-day ; you mast 
prepare a grand bouquet, and I wish you to 
compose yourself the compliment to accompany 
it." — " Father," he replied, "I have a beautiful 
immortelle in my garden, that will be both my 
bouquet and my compliment. In presenting it 
to mamma, I will say to her, I hope that mam- 
ma may be like my flower." 

While the last happy days of this child were 
being passed in his garden, the Revolution was 
preparing to knock at the gates of the palace 
of his fathers. 

The Assembly desired to control the king, 
and it knew how to do it ; but, in order to ex- 
ercise this control, it was necessary to appeal 
to the irregular forces of the streets, and, in or- 
der to free themselves from royal authority, to 
accept the aid, and soon to submit to the yoke 
of the multitude. 

France became an arena of gladiators. News 
from the provinces announced, from day to day, 
conflagration, sedition, and assassination ; the 
effervescence of passion was at its height. The 
11th of July, Necker resigned and exiled him- 
self. On the 12th, the news of his departure 
circulated. Paris was astounded and indig- 
nant. The signal of explosion was given. The 



28 The Bourbon Prince. 

theatres were deserted, the shops closed — the 
cafes filled, and the people murmured. The 
Palais Royal was crowded ; the busts of the 
Duke of Orleans and of Necker were carried 
in triumph. Camille Desmoulins, intoxicated 
with the honors of that Revolution that had 
marked him for its victim, distributed cockades, 
and was the first to call to arms; the clubs 
thronged the streets ; the tocsin sounded ; the 
barriers were fired. All armed — all rushed 
headlong — all raged ; Paris was in a state of 
intense excitement ; the Revolution was up and 
doing. From the 14th of July the Revolution 
became a fact. Every thing turned against 
that power which, from the beginning, showed 
it unable to defend itself; the retreat of royalty 
became a total rout. 

Under these critical circumstances, the king 
and the queen saw, without regret, those of their 
subjects who had been most intimately attach- 
ed to their persons abandoning them. The Po- 
lignac family had enjoyed too many marked 
favors not to excite envy, and calumny had 
pointed them out to the fury of the populace. 
The queen ordered the Duchess of Polignac to 
retire; the duchess refused to consent. "You 
wish, then, to increase my troubles," said Ma- 
rie Antoinette, "and to give me one more af- 



His Father's Absence. 29 

fliction in addition." Madame De Polignac had 
not yielded to her friend ; she obeyed her queen. 
She retired to Switzerland, and from thence to 
Austria ; but, as the governess of the royal chil- 
dren, she could not absent herself, she gave in 
her resignation. Marie Antoinette selected the 
Marchioness of Tourzel to succeed her. The 
disasters which overwhelmed the royal family 
cruelly tried the fidelity of Madame De Tour- 
zel, whose courageous devotion so nobly justi- 
fied the words in which the queen made known 
to her her appointment : "I give in trust to vir- 
tue what I have confided to friendship." 

On the 17th July, the king, in spite of some 
sinister opinions, determined to keep his prom- 
ise of going to Paris. He entered his coach at 
eleven o'clock, after having taken the most 
touching leave of his family. The queen, trem- 
bling for the life of the king, passed the whole 
day in anxious fears. Her children did not quit 
her for an instant; the Dauphin went constant- 
ly to the window, desiring to be the first to an- 
nounce the return of his father. " He will re- 
turn, mamma," he constantly exclaimed ; " he 
will return. Father is so good, that no one can 
harm him I" The king returned. He hurried 
from his coach to the arms of the queen, to the 
embraces of his children. Versailles was ex- 



30 The Bourbon Prince. 

cited with joy ; the people overwhelmed the 
marble court, bearing branches of willow adorn- 
ed with ribbons, and which, under the cover of 
the night, appeared like branches of olive. The 
king made his appearance twice on the balcony, 
accompanied by his family. That evening, how- 
ever, could not make him forget the anxieties 
of the day; the storm which he had left behind 
him at Paris threatened, from day to day, to 
pour down upon Versailles. 

The populace of Paris commenced their march 
to the royal palace on the 5th of October. "Wom- 
en, with disheveled hair, and drunken men, 
joined the rabble, and forced La Fayette to lead 
them to Versailles. 

The whole palace was surrounded with hordes 
of those hags, that crime had collected from the 
filth of Paris and set upon Versailles. With them 
were those hideous and ragged battalions, armed 
at hazard with clubs and hatchets, with pikes 
and knives ; troops recruited in the prison- 
houses, and whom the Revolution had com- 
menced to enroll ; and besides these were the 
regular columns of the militia, commanded by 
La Fayette. 

La Fayette pledged his head for the safety 
of the palace, and retired to his couch. Crime, 
however, did not sleep ; but before morning, on 




^t 




;::!:i 



Attack on the Palace. 33 

the 6th of October, it forced the gates of the pal- 
ace, overwhelmed the apartments of the royal 
family, and massacred the body-guard that bar- 
red the passage conducting to the bed-chamber 
of the queen. Disappointed in their rage, the 
assassins pierced through and through with their 
sabres the bed that Marie Antoinette had just 
left, half dressed. Trembling for the life of his 
son, the king runs to the bed-chamber of his 
darling child, carries him off in his arms, and 
passes, in order to conceal himself from the sight 
of the assassins, through a subterranean pas- 
sage. In his course his light went out. Feel- 
ing his way into his apartment, he found the 
queen, who, with a coverlet upon her shoul- 
ders, had just sought a refuge there. 

La Fayette finally made his appearance, and 
cleared the palace. He demanded of the king, 
in the name of the people, to fix his residence 
in Paris. 

At one o'clock, Louis XYI. and his family en- 
tered his coach and set out for Paris, having for 
his retinue some trains of artillery ; brigands, 
armed with pikes, stained with filth, wine, and 
blood ; drunken women, with disheveled hair, 
who, astride the cannons, or mounted upon the 
horses of the body-guards, some in helmets, oth- 
ers armed with guns or sabres, bawled out ob- 
C 



34 The Bourbon Prince. 

scene songs or fierce imprecations. The livid 
heads of the two young body-guards, who had 
allowed themselves to be massacred rather than 
abandon their post, were borne in the proces- 
sion, upon pikes, by two men. 

After a march from Yersailles of about seven 
hours' duration, this convoy of royalty reached 
Paris. The people were at the windows stupe- 
fied with the sight. The women, who formed 
a large portion of the escort, cried out, " Fear 
no more, there will be no longer any famine ; 
we bring you the baker, the baker's wife, and 
the little baker's man !" 

At the moment this strange procession of a 
drunken and blood-thirsty mob bearing the roy- 
al family as their booty for the day, passed upon 
the quay which extends along the garden of the 
Tuileries, a young man, with an antique pro- 
file and an eagle eye, exclaimed, with indigna- 
tion, "What! has the king no cannon to sweep 
away this rabble ?" 

This young man, destined himself one day 
to sweep away the Revolution, was Napoleon 
Bonaparte. 



Chapter II. 

" TT is very ugly here, mamma," said the Dau- 
•^ phin, on entering the palace of the Tuil- 
eries. " My son," answered the queen, " Louis 
XIY. lived here, and was contented ; we should 
not be more difficult to please than he was." 

The presence of the royal family in Paris 
served to establish but a momentary calm. The 
factious soon renewed their agitations ; the most 
odious calumnies about the king and queen 
were circulated ; the populace constantly ut- 
tered the most obscene and insulting cries be- 
neath the windows of the palace. The lowest 
dregs of the people approached the throne under 
the title of deputies. It was proposed to refuse 
them admission ; but the king and queen de- 
sired that the approach to the palace might be 
open to all. A worthy orator of this rabble al- 
lowed himself, one day, to make a base accusa- 
tion, in the most outrageous terms, against the 
queen, who was present with her son. A moth- 
er is doubly outraged, when outraged in the 
presence of her child. 



38 The Bourbon Prince. 

The royal family were no longer ahle to leave 
Paris, and confined themselves to an occasional 
walk in the garden of the Tuileries. It was, 
in fact, a veritable prison. The Revolution, 
with occasional intervals of quiet, continued to 
ferment. 

It is easy to imagine how much the Dauphin, 
shut up almost constantly in the palace, must 
have regretted Versailles. He, however, took 
an occasional ride with his governess. He paid 
a visit regularly on every Thursday to the Mar- 
quise De Leyde, who had a beautiful residence 
and a large garden in the Faubourg St. G-er- 
main. There he always found an abundance 
of flowers, of air and liberty, and also some 
children of his own age for playmates. One 
day, while playing hide-and-go-seek, the prince 
took it into his head to climb up by a ladder 
into a hay-loft at the bottom of the garden ; the 
ladder, being badly placed, slipped, and was 
only prevented from falling to the ground by 
being caught on the hedge which surrounded 
the inclosure. The officer who had charge of 
him, having turned his head for a moment, was 
not aware of what the young rogue was doing, 
but, on looking round, saw him at the top of 
the ladder at the moment it began to fall. He 
was at first much alarmed, but was soon en- 



The Tuileries. 39 

couraged on beholding the Dauphin escape from 
his perilous situation, and count, with an air of 
victory, each step on the ladder as he descended. 

The amusements of Louis-Charles became 
more and more rare, but he did not complain. 
However, on the 7th of April, 1790, he remarked 
to Madame De Tourzel, " I am very sorry that I 
have no longer got my garden. I would have 
made two beautiful bouquets for to-morrow, one 
for mamma and one for sister." It was on the 
next day that his sister was to receive the com- 
munion for the first time. 

Some few days after this, some frightful ru- 
mors circulated. It was said that a plot had 
been formed to get possession of the palace by 
force. During the night some guns were fired 
off. The king arose and hastened to the queen ; 
he did not find her in her own apartment. He 
went to the room of the Dauphin, and there he 
found her, holding her dear child pressed to her 
bosom. '■'■ Madam, you frightened me terribly. 
I have been looking for you." — " Sire," answer- 
ed the queen, " I was at my post." 

These incessant agitations were not allowed 
to interfere with the regular instruction of the 
Dauphin. He was taught religion, writing, his- 
tory, arithmetic, geography, botany. M. De la 
Porde, first valet de chambre of Louis XY., had 



40 The Bourbon Prince. 

prepared for the study of this latter science a 
herbal, in which the young prince took an espe- 
cial interest. He was, at the same time, prac- 
ticed in various kinds of bodily exercise, in 
dancing and in tennis-playing. No child ever 
exhibited in his diversions more grace, address, 
and agility. 

Within the inclosure of the Tuileries, there 
was a little garden surrounded by a paling, 
which was attached to the house occupied by 
the Abbe Davaux,the Dauphin's tutor. It was 
thought that the prince might find there what 
he had left at Versailles, and resume an exer- 
cise that was conformable to his taste and good 
for his health. This little plot was, therefore, 
given to him, and he availed himself of it with 
great avidity. He raised rabbits ; he cultivated 
flowers. This plot of ground has been altered ; 
but it was the same garden that afterward 
Napoleon gave to the King of Rome, Charles 
X. to the Duke of Bordeaux, and Louis Philippe 
to the Comte De Paris. The first royal child 
died in prison, at the age of ten ; the second, 
while a youth, was borne away by the storm, 
and lived only long enough to learn the name 
of his father, and to behold, before his death, 
his father's sword ; the third and the fourth 
disappeared, like the two others, in the tern. 



GrOODNESS AND CoURAGE. 41 

pest, and still wander as exiles in Austria or 
England ! 

When the prince-royal went to his new garden, 
he was generally attended by a detachment of 
the National G-uard on service at the Tuileries. 
For some time he had learned the soldier's man- 
ual exercise, and he himself, for the most part, 
was dressed in the uniform of a National Gruard. 
He was proud of his escort, and his frank and 
open countenance naturally expressed his hap- 
piness. His brow appeared to be innocent of 
all unquiet thoughts. When his guard were 
few in number, the prince invited them to enter 
with him. Once, when the number was large, 
and they were obliged to remain outside : ''Ex- 
cuse me, gentlemen," said he ; "I am sorry 
my garden is so small, since it deprives me of 
the pleasure of receiving you all." Then he 
would offer some of his flowers to those that 
were near the paling and seemed to be interest- 
ed in his amusements. 

On another occasion — and this trait will 
show that, to the gracefulness of his manners 
and to the amiability of his disposition, there 
was joined a certain chivalrous spirit, which 
seemed to justify the old motto of the house of 
Bourbon, Bonte et valeur, G-oodness and cour- 
age — before leaving the palace on his way to 



42 The Bourbon Prince. 

his garden, lie was practicing his manual exer- 
cise with a musket. At the moment of leav- 
ing, the officer of the National Guard on serv- 
ice said to him, '' As you are going out, your 
highness will please deliver up your musket." 
The Dauphin refused, somewhat abruptly. Ma- 
dame De Tourzel having rebuked him : '' If the 
gentleman had asked me to give it to him, it 
would have been all very well, madam ; but 
deliver it !" . . . . 

On learning the answer of his son, the king 
exclaimed, " Always quick and abrupt ! but I 
see with pleasure that he knows the value of 
words and understands the proper use of terms." 

There was formed in Paris a company en- 
tirely composed of young folks, under the title 
of the Dauphin's Regiment. The Abbe Anthe- 
aume first conceived the idea of this regiment, 
and proposed its formation to the king. The 
citizens had chiefly defrayed the expense, and 
had furnished the regiment with all its men, 
who were children. " I was one of this regi- 
ment," says M. Antoine, '' and we were admit- 
ted, on several occasions, to go through with 
our manoeuvres before the prince. On our first 
visit, we found him in his garden, where he was 
surrounded by several noblemen." — "Would 
you like to be the colonel of this regiment ?" 



The Dauphin Regiment. 43 

asked one of them. " Yes," answered the Dau- 
phin. " Then good-by to the flowers and bou- 
quets for your mamma." " Oh I that will not 
prevent me taking care of my flowers. Many 
of these gentlemen have told me that they also 
have little gardens. Well, then, they will love 
the queen, like their colonel, and mamma will 
have every day a regiment of bouquets . . ." 

Most of those who composed this little ba- 
tallion were selected children. They, of course, 
naturally felt a deference for the son of the king, 
but beyond that they were not allowed to yield 
in any respect to their comrade. The king said, 
" I wish him to have companions that may 
arouse his emulation ; but not, little flatterers, 
to yield to him in every thing." This little 
troop, which in the beginning only counted a 
hundred and fifty to two hundred men^ in- 
creased from day to day. Since M. Antheaume 
had given notice to the newspapers of the royal 
authority with which he was fortified, many 
families were eager to have their children en- 
rolled in the beardless regiment, and ready to 
defray the expense of their equipment. The 
dress was the uniform of the French G-uard in 
miniature, the white gaiters and the three- 
cornered hat inclusive. 

It was necessary to discipline this regiment, 



44 The. Bourbon Prince. 

which had become quite numerous, and had 
taken, with pride, the name of the Royal Dau- 
phin. Officers were appointed, chosen on ac- 
count of their age or military knowledge. The 
official colonel (for the Dauphin only had the 
title) was a charming youth of seventeen, whose 
father was a clothier in the market-place, near 
the house where Moliere was born. A lively 
spirit of emulation seized upon the young re- 
cruits, and it was who could do the exercise 
best. Twice a week the Royal Dauphin reg- 
iment mustered at the residence of the Abbe 
Antheaume, who lived in that little narrow 
street, since widened, which joined the Rue 
Montmartre by the court-yard of the Message- 
ries Roy ale s ; and from thence, with drums 
beating, which drew the attention of the whole 
neighborhood, they repaired to the inclosure of 
St. Lazare, at the end of the faubourg St. Denis, 
the Abbe Antheaume at their head, and there 
they went through their maneuvers under the 
command of a regular military officer. After 
two hours of exercise, the troops returned to 
M. Antheaume's ; there they were dismissed 
and repaired to their quarters, I should say, to 
the homes of their parents. 

From the first the regiment had always its 
place in every ceremony at which the Dauphin 



Royal Bonbon. 45 

appeared. From day to day its pretensions in- 
creased, and it insisted upon being placed on the 
same military footing as the National G-uard. 
" There are no longer any children," said La 
Fayette. " Well, be it so ! there are so many 
old men who have the vices of youth, that it is 
good to see children with the virtues of men." 
The Royal Dauphin regiment from that mo- 
ment assumed a serious attitude. It was per- 
mitted to fill three posts of honor — at the palace, 
the residence of the mayor of Paris, and the resi- 
dence of the commander-in-chief of the Nation- 
al G-uard. When the guard defiled upon the 
Place des Tuileries, the young regiment al- 
ways received marks of satisfaction on the part 
of the royal family from the balcony where they 
were. The king saluted their flag with an ex- 
pression of affection, and the Dauphin sent a 
thousand testimonials of joy and sympathy to 
his comrades. 

But there is no success without detraction. 
If the Royal Dauphin regiment had its par- 
tisans, it also had its detractors. No popularity 
can long continue in Paris, not even that of in- 
fancy ! Public malice finds a laughable and 
ridiculous side to every thing. The little regi- 
ment received the nickname of the Royal Bon- 
bon. " You don't eat at the mess," exclaimed 



46 The Bourbon Prince. 

some. "No, you little ducks, you pick up 
your food with your bills," said others. Young 
blood became heated on hearing these jokes. 
The ideas of all were turned in the direction 
of war ; and the military spirit, so potent in 
France, had carried away even ten-year-old 
heads. It was not sufficient for the Royal 
Dauphin regiment to parade with the troops 
of the line and the National Gruard ; to see its 
sentry-box placed side by side with the others 
at the three posts it occupied night and day. 
It wished to have a right to the public respect, 
and thought that the best means of obtaining 
it was, like the grown-up soldiers, to receive 
regular military orders, and have a countersign. 
This, of course, was impossible. 

Besides, there was a person who, after the 
example of M. Antheaume, had formed another 
regiment of children, which was entitled the 
" White Epaulets," or " The Henry the Fourth." 
This second title was derived from the fact of 
its mustering upon the Pont Neuf, where there 
is a statue of Henry the Fourth. This oppo- 
sition excited some lively disputes, which re- 
sulted in several duels. Three children were 
wounded by the bayonet ; a fourth one received 
a very dangerous cut from a sabre. This was 
quite enough, not to calm the excited heads of 



Dauphin Regiment Disbanded. 47 

these apprentice soldiers, but to cool the fright- 
ened zeal of their parents, who all, without con- 
sulting each other, unanimously were of opin- 
ion that it belonged to them at this time to give 
the orders and the countersign ; and they pro- 
nounced, on their own authority, the dissolution 
of the Royal Dauphin regiment. 

The funeral of Mirabeau was one of the most 
imposing public ceremonies in which the child 
regiment figured. Two months subsequently, 
we find it mixed up with the excitement caused 
by the flight of the king. The drum beat in all 
Paris, and the little drums bore their share. 
A few days afterward, the disbandment took 
place. The tragedies of the street became too 
serious to allow of children taking a part in 
them. 

The Dauphin never went to his little garden 
without meeting on his road with many moth- 
ers and children ; he saluted the one kindly, 
and the others with cordiality. The children 
who desired to speak with him approached him 
like a companion. He listened to them, for he 
knew how to listen, and more than once he 
gave money to those who told him their fam- 
ilies were in want. A poor mother came, one 
day, to him while he was in the midst of his 
flowers, and besought him to ask a favor for 



48 The Bourbon Prince. 

her. '' Ah ! your highness," said she, " if I 
could obtain this favor, I would he as happy as 
a queen." The prince, who had stooped down 
to pluck some flowers, raised himself, looked at 
her, and said, with much feeling, " Happy as 
a queen / . . . I know one who does noth- 
ing but weep." 

He took charge of the petition of the poor 
woman, who returned the next day to his lit- 
tle garden, impatient to see him. " I have an 
answer for you," said the child, full of joy ; 
and, all radiant, drew from his pocket a piece 
of gold, wrapped in paper. " This is from my 
mother, and this is from me," said he, as he 
gave her a large bouquet. 
f^K peculiarity in the disposition of the prince 
worthy of remark was his sensibility to the suf- 
ferings of children of his own age. He always 
manifested his regret when a visit to the Found- 
ling Hospital terminated. " Mamma, w^hen 
shall we go again ?" he exclaimed, one day, as 
he entered the carriage on his return to the 
palace. 

The young heir of the throne put aside the 
largest portion of his pocket-money in a pretty 
little chest that his aunt Elizabeth had given 
him. Louis XYL, who was not in the secret, 
saw; his son, one day, counting his crowns, which 



The Little Prisoner. 49 

he afterward arranged, with great care, in piles 
in his chest. " What, Charles," said the king, 
" are you saving up, like a miser !" Troubled 
with this name miser, the child blushed ; but 
he soon recovered himself, and in a cheerful 
manner, and with a clear voice, said, " Yes, 
father, I am a miser, but it is for the poor found- 
lings. Oh if you should see them ! They are 
well named ; they make one very sad !" The 
king took the young almoner to his arms, and 
embraced him with ardor. " Such beinor the 

o 

case, my child, I will assist you to fill your 
coffe;!?^" 

^^narchy prevailed more and more in the 
kingdom. Mirabeau was dead, carrying with 
him, as he himself said, the fragments of the 
monarchy. 

The Holy Week approached. Louis XVL 
was disposed to pass his Easter at St. Cloud. 
The king was obliged to renounce this visit on 
account of the suspicion of a supposed flight. 
The Dauphin, who had formed some delightful 
expectations from this journey to St. Cloud, was 
disappointed at the change. To divert him, his 
tutor, the Abbe Davaux, had put into his hands 
a volume of '' L^Ami des Enfants,^^ by Berquin. 
The young prince opened it at hazard, and, 
quite surprised, exclaimed, " How strange, 
D 



50 The Bourbon Prince. 

abbe ! Look here, at this title ! how funny ! 
The Little Prisoner !^^ 

/AH efforts to re-establish peace and quiet in 
France were in vain. The mania of Revolu- 
tion became every day more wild, the deser- 
tions more barefaced, the position of the royal 
family more trying. The queen could not look 
out of her window without provoking an insult 
or receiving an outrage. The burden became 
so heavy, that>rfl that was left was either to es- 
cape from it or be borne down by its weight. 

/On the night of the 20th of June, 1791, the 
royal family took flight from Paris, and set out 
for Yarennes. The Dauphin was disguised as a 
little girl, and looked charmingly in his cos- 
tume. Awakened at eleven o'clock at night, 
the child was aroused from a sound slumber, 
and had no idea of what was going on. His 
sister asked what he thought they were going 
to do. ''I think," said he, with his eyes only 
half open, "that we are going to play a cgm- 
edy, since we are all to be in disguise." ^'It is 
well known that the attempt to escape did not 
succeed, and the royal family was stopped in 
its flight, at Yarennes. " Oh ! Charles," said 
his sister to him, " you were mistaken ; it was 
not a comedy !" — " I found that out long since," 
replied he. 



The Flight to Varejvnes, 51 

The royal mother took her child in her arms 
and carried him herself into the coacL when 
the royal family started on their return to Paris. 
On the route they were met hy the three dep- 
uties sent by the National Assembly to escort 
the king and his family to Paris. Barnave, one 
of the deputies, took his seat in the royal car- 
riage, in front of the king and queen, and held 
the Dauphin upon his knees. He addressed 
himself to the young prince, and was much 
struck with his ready, amiable, and intelligent 
answers. " You are not sorry to return to Par- 
is ?" — " I am always happy when I am with 
my father and my mother the queen, 
and with my aunt, my sister, and Madame De 
Tourzel," continued he. ''It is a melancholy 
journey for my children," said the king. " What 
a difference between this and the visit to Cher- 
bourg ! Calumny had not then perverted pub- 
lic opinion. I may be misunderstood, but I 
shall never be changed ; the love of my people 
shall always continue to be the first desire of 
my heart, as it is the first of my duties." The 
plaintive feeling of these words affected the 
Dauphin ; he took his father's hand to kiss it. 
The king pressed him to his heart, kissed him, 
and called him, as in old times, " My dear little 
Normand." — " Do not be sad, my dear father," 



52 The Bourbon Prince. 

said the child, with a big tear rolling down his 
,. face ; " the next time we will go to Cherbourg." 

f At all the stoppages the two other deputies 

came to see what was going on in the royal 
carriage. Surprised to find the Dauphin al- 
ways upon the knees of Barnave, one remarked 
to the other, quite loud enough to be heard by 
the royal travelers, " Barnave is decidedly the 
prop of future royalty." 

In some of the towns revolutionary cries were 
heard, and the body-guard were insulted. On 
entering the faubourg of Meaux, a great tumult 
arose. A priest was about to be murdered. The 
queen uttered a cry, and Barnave, springing out 
of the coach, exclaimed, " Frenchmen ! a nation 
of brave men, would you become assassins ?" 
Struck with admiration for Barnave, Madame 
Elizabeth held him back by his coat, lest he 
should precipitate himself among the furious 
crowd, and become himself a victim. But the 
powerful voice of Barnave was sufficient to save 
the priest from death. After this action, the 
Dauphin eagerly resumed his place on the knees 
of Barnave, for he now believed him to be a zeal- 
ous partisan of his family. 

The royal family entered Paris on the 25th, 
at seven o'clock in the evening. The National 
G-uard received them with their arms reversed, 



Return TO Paris. 53 

and the people with their heads covered. The 
sad procession passed through the avenue of the 
Champs Elysees, in the midst of from two to 
three hundred thousand spectators. A thick 
cloud of dust, raised by this immense multitude, 
hid occasionally from the people the humilia- 
tion of their ancient masters, and from the lat- 
ter the triumphant joy of their enemies. The 
face of the Dauphin was flooded with perspira- 
tion ; he could hardly breathe. His mother 
lowered the blind of the carriage, and, looking 
for sympathy from the national militia which 
lined the way, said, " Behold, gentlemen, the 
state of my children ; they are suffocating !" — 
" We will suffocate them quite another way !" 
answered some brutal fellows, who were behind 
the ranks of the National Guard. 

On arriving at the Tuileries, M. Hue made 
his way through the crowd of guards and the 
rabble, mad with fury and drink, to the coach, 
and extended his arms to receive the Dauphin. 
The royal child no sooner beheld his old attend- 
ant than his eyes filled with tears. In spite of 
the efforts of M. Hue to take him in his arms, 
an officer of the National Gruard took possession 
of him, and bore him into the palace. The young 
prince was conducted to his apartment, and 
placed under the care of Madame De Tourzel. 



54 The Bourbon Prince. 

Two officers of the Parisian militia installed 
themselves in the very chamber of the Dauphin. 
As soon as the Dauphin was in bed, he sent 
for M. Hue : " Tell me," said he to him, '' all 
that is occurring. As soon as we had arrived 
at Varennes, they sent us back. I don't know 
why. Do you ?" The officers of the guard 
were walking and talking together, at that mo- 
ment, in the apartment. M. Hue urged upon 
the prince the necessity of not speaking to any 
person, or before any one, about this journey. 
This advice was scrupulously followed for the 
future ; but it perhaps contributed toward de- 
veloping in his young imagination that severity 
of reflection which brings with it fear and anx- 
iety. The child, in spite of fatigue and his 
usual habit, was quite late in going to sleep ; 
and in the morning, when he arose, said in the 
presence of his guards, and quite loud enough 
to be heard, that he had had a frightful dream ; 
that he appeared to be surrounded with wolves, 
tigers, and other wild beasts, that wanted to 
devour him. 



Chapter III. 

ri^HE royal family was kept in close captiv- 
-■- ity in the palace of the Tuileries. The 
persons who had accompanied them in their 
flight were imprisoned. 

The Dauphin inquiring what had become of 
his bonne — for it was thus he called Madame 
Neuville, his femme de chambre^ who was then 
in prison — he was told that she had gone to see 
her mother. Upon her being restored to him : 
" It is long since I have seen you," he said, in 
presence of his mother. " But you were right. 
If I had been in your place, I would have re- 
mained away much longer." And he threw 
himself into the arms of his mother, overwhelm- 
ing her with caresses. 

The captivity of the royal family, and the 
outrages to which they had been exposed, soft- 
ened for a moment the hearts of their enemies. 
Every measure, however, was taken to prevent 
a second escape. A perpetual constraint inter- 
fered with every movement of the family. The 
queen, who was lodged on the ground-floor, was 
always accompanied by four officers of the Na- 



56 The Bourbon Prince. 

tional G-uard, whenever she went to the room of 
her son, and she always found his door closed. 
One of the officers of her escort would knock, 
saying, " The queen !" The two officers, who 
were always on guard in the apartment of Ma- 
dame De Tourzel, would open the door. Ma- 
rie Antoinette would then take her child, and 
conduct him to the king, ill treatment did 
not disturb the serenity of this noble race. Ma- 
rie Antoinette devoted a large portion of the day 
to the education of her children. 

The Assembly was occupied in preparing the 
new Constitution. Public opinion was some- 
what calmed. After some weeks of captivity, 
the queen was permitted to go with the Dauphin 
into the garden of the Tuileries. The breast of 
the young prince expanded with delight to the 
fresh air that he breathed in with avidity : 
" Mamma," exclaimed he, as he skipped about, 
"how I pity those unfortunate people who are 
always shut up." A flock of birds, perched 
upon the top of the highest tree in the gar- 
den, drew his attention. The earnestness with 
which he followed them from tree to tree caused 
him to trip and fall into a small hole filled with 
green leaves. "Mamma," said he, as he got 
up, " I am like the Astronomer in La Fontaine's 
Fable, who fell into the well." His active and 



The new Constitution. 57 

ready intellect frequently applied to the events 
of the day the lessons he had learned. On 
other occasions, the great French writer of fa- 
bles supplied him with an appropriate quota- 
tion. His sister having spoken in his presence 
of an adroit petitioner, who, by flattery, had ex- 
torted a pension from a minister : " Poor min- 
ister," said he ; '' for my part, I don't think 
much of crows that let their cheese drop in that 
way !" 

On the 14th of September, 1791, the king re- 
paired to the sound of cannon, and in the midst 
of noisy expressions of joy on the part of the 
people, to the Assembly, in order to accept the 
new Constitution. 

The queen, with her son and daughter, was 
also present. Cries of long live the prince 
royal, burst from all sides, as a public endorse- 
ment of the new charter, which abolished the 
title of Dauphin, and conferred that of prince 
royal upon the heir to the throne. 

A great fete ensued. There was a splen- 
did illumination ; balloons ascended, fire-works 
were let off. For a moment the Revolution 
seemed to be appeased. The royal family were 
no longer close captives. 

As soon as the king's captivity at the Tuil- 
eries ceased, the Abbe Davaux resumed his 



58 The Bourbon Prince, 

functions of tutor to the prince. On the day 
that his studies were resumed the abbe said to 
his pupil, " If I remember aright, our last lesson 
was the three degrees of comparison — the posi- 
tive, comparative, and superlative ; but you 
have forgotten it all?" — "You are mistaken," re- 
plied the child ; "just see. Listen: it's the pos- 
itive when I say, My abbe is a good abbe ; it's 
the comparative when I say, My abbe is better 
than any other abbe ; the superlative, contin- 
ued he, looking at his mother, when I say. Mam- 
ma is the dearest and best of mammas ?" The 
queen took her son in her arms, pressed him to 
her heart, and could not restrain her tears. 

M. Bertrand de MoUeville, in his memoirs, 
gives the following incidents : 

" While the queen was speaking to me, the 
Dauphin was amusing himself singing and leap- 
ing about the apartment, with a little wooden 
sword and shield in his hands. They came for 
him to go to supper, and he jumped to the door. 
" What ! my son," said the queen, " are you 
going without saying good evening to M. Ber- 
trand?" — " Mamma," said this charming child, 
" M. Bertrand is a friend. Grood evening. Mon- 
sieur Bertrand !" and he sprang out of the room. 
"Is he not charming ?" said the queen to me, 
when he had left. " He is very happy in being 



His Love of Study. 59 

so young ; he does not know our troubles, and 
his gayety does us good." 

The adventures of Telemachus was one of 
his favorite books. In the fifth book, the son 
of Ulysses relates how " the Cretans, having no 
longer any king to rule over them, resolved to 
choose one who would preserve the established 
laws in their purity." Among other require- 
ments necessary to a choice, the person to be 
chosen must be able to answer three questions. 
When the Abbe Davaux had read the second 
question, as follows : " Who is the most unhappy 
of all men ?" the prince royal interrupted him, 
saying, " Let me, abbe, answer this question, 
as if I were Telemachus. The most unhappy 
of men is the king, who has the grief of seeing 
that his subjects do not obey the laws." 

A few days afterward, a little lantern of fili- 
gree-work, of beautiful execution, was present- 
ed to him. He lighted it secretly, and pretend- 
ed to be looking for something he wanted very 
much to find. Finally, he came to the Abbe 
Davaux, and said to him, taking him by the 
hand, " I am happier than Diogenes ; I haiw 
found a man, and a good friend." 

He had a great love for study. Having often 
heard the queen speaking Italian, he asked per- 
mission to learn it. and in a short time was 



60 The Bourbon Prince. 

able to read his dear Telemachus in that lan- 
guage. 

These additional studies did not make him 
neglect his other branches of education. He 
had already commenced to write ; he was fa- 
miliar with some of the rules of arithmetic ; he 
knew something of the elements of geometry 
and_ astronomy. 

There is a pleasure in relating all these de- 
tails. The eye reposes with a melancholy 
charm upon those last happy days of a life that 
was destined to count so few. 

The royal parents, encouraged by a slight re- 
action in their favor, were full of hope for the 
future. They began to share in the public 
amusements. They took their children one 
night to the Italian opera. The prince royal, 
seated upon the lap of his mother, attracted all 
eyes ; his angelic features, animated with the 
scene, expanded with delight ; and his charm- 
ing gestures imitated those of the actors, in or- 
der to explain the piece to his mother. 

This happiness did not long continue. Paris 
became more and more agitated, complaints re- 
doubled, threats against the royal family were 
louder and more frequent, insults more bitter, 
and violence ensued. 

The palace was overwhelmed with a drunk- 



The King in Danger. 61 

en and excited multitude, and the king's life 
endangered. A young man in the crowd cried 
out, aloud, " Let us cut the throats of the royal 
family !" A beardless boy seconded the motion 
of his elder. A third person, of a hideous as- 
pect, wearing upon his head a paper cap with 
this inscription, '''La Mo7't,^^ said nothing, but, 
speechless and livid, regarded the king with a 
bloodshot eye, and watched his every movement 
with frightful contortions. A fourth placed a 
bonnet rouge upon the king's head. A fifth, 
brandishing a pike, cried out, " Where is he ? 
I will kill him I" A sixth offered a glass and 
a bottle to Louis XYL, and told him to drink 
to the health of the nation. 

The queen, who had heard the tumult in the 
most distant part of the palace, where she had 
gone for the protection of her children, could no 
longer be prevented from bearing her share in 
the dangers that the disturbance indicated. 
The royal child was taken in haste to the 
apartment of his sister. The noise hardly 
reached him, but the poor child was none the 
less anxious ; appreciating the danger of his 
family, he sobbingly asked what his father and 
mother were doing. The queen had retired to 
the apartment of her son, where the young 
prince was then carried. He had hardly re- 



62 The Bourbon Prince. 

ceived the caress of his mother, when loud 
knocks were heard at the door of a neighboring 
room. The queen escaped, with her son and 
all the persons about her, into a passage which 
communicated with the sleeping apartment of 
the king. Here they remained in security. 
A deep silence prevailed in this retreat, for fear 
they might be heard by the mob that was rag- 
ing on all sides of them. The royal child was 
clinging to his poor mother, as if to protect her 
who was trembling, not for herself, but for her 
children. A long time passed thus, until a bat- 
talion of grenadiers, who remained faithful to 
the king, came up and restrained the seditious 
hordes. The people then asked to see the 
queen. Marie Antoinette showed herself at the 
further end of the council-chamber ; some gren- 
adiers surrounded her, and placed before her the 
council-table, which served as a barrier against 
the mob. The crowd rushed into the hall 
where the queen was. The queen was stand- 
ing up ; the prince royal was seated upon the 
table before the queen. At the head of the 
crowd, which poured in with insulting cries of 
triumph, there was a drunken woman, who, 
raging like a tigi-ess, threw upon the table a 
bonnet rouge, and insisted, with the most gross 
and insulting language, that it should be placed 



Bonnet Rouge. 63 

upon the head of Marie Antoinette. An attend- 
ant took the bonnet, and, at the request of the 
queen, placed it for a moment, with a hand 
trembling with indignation, upon her head, and 
then removed it immediately and put it on the 
table. A cry then arose : " The bonnet rouge 
for the prince royal ! Tricolor ribbons for the 
little veto /" Some ribbons, thrown upon the 
table, fell at this moment by the side of the 
Phrygian cap. " If you love the nation," cried 
the mob, " put the bonnet rouge upon the head 
of your son." The queen, always calm, gave 
the order to M. Hue to satisfy the multitude ; 
the bonnet rouge glared upon the light hair of 
the child, and the tricolored ribbons fell about 
his neck and dress. The child did not know 
whether this was an insult or an amusement, 
and smiled with an air of surprise. But an in- 
stant after, some of the officers and National 
Guard, having remarked that the heavy wool- 
en cap was, in consequence of its warmth, quite 
insupportable to the child, M. Hue removed it. 

Petion, the Mayor of Paris, dismissed the 
mob with these words : " Men and women, you 
have begun the day with dignity and wisdom ; 
you have proved yourselves free ; end it also 
with dignity, and do as I shall — go to bed !" 

At ten o'clock the palace was emptied, and 



64 The Bourbon Prince. 

the prince royal slept so quietly that it might 
have been supposed that he was lulled to sleep 
by the remembrance of a most delightful 
day. 

On the next day, 21st of June, 1792, the agi- 
tation was renewed. Crowds again collected in 
the court of the Tuileries. The prince royal, 
on seeing his mother, said, ingenuously, " Mam- 
ma, is it still yesterday ?" Alas ! yes, it was 
still yesterday ; the 20th of June continued yet, 
and was to continue until the 21st of January I 
The young Dauphin, mixed up with these ter- 
rible events, became early habituated to sorrow 
and humiliation in witnessing the sorrow and 
humiliation of his family. Young as he was, 
he was quite sensible of the sufferings inflicted 
upon his mother and father. Early in July, 
they were reading at the Tuileries a pamphlet 
attacking the royal family, and especially the 
queen. "I would like," said the queen, "to 
know those who hate me, and to see if I could 
not punish them in doing them good." The 
prince royal, who had not been listening until 
then, lifted up his head, and ran and threw him- 
self in his mother's arms, saying, with a tearful 
eye and a full heart, " Rest assured, mamma, 
that all the world loves you." 

Louis-Charles, hearing the cries, " Down with 



65 

the king!" '•^ Long live Petion!^'' cried out, un- 
able to control his indignation, '' Oh, then it is 
M. Petion who is king now !" His father look- 
ing at him with a sad expression of face, the 
child took his hand, and said, as he kissed it, 
*' No, father, it is you who are the king, for you 
are just and kind !" 

G-uadet, the Grirondin, had an interview with 
the king and the queen at the Tuileries. As he 
was about retiring, the queen asked if he would 
not like to see the Dauphin, and, taking a can- 
dle, she conducted him herself into the next 
room, which was that of the young prince. 
" How quietly he sleeps I" said the Girondin, 
with a voice of sadness ; and the queen, lean- 
ing over the bed of the Dauphin, '' Poor child," 
sighed she ; " he is the only one in the palace 
who sleeps so." The tone of Marie Antoinette 
penetrated G-uadet to the heart. He took hold 
of the hand of the child, and, without waking 
him, kissed him tenderly ; then, turning to the 
queen, "Madam," said he, "educate him for 
liberty. His life depends upon it." 

The prince royal had been forced to bid his 
garden farewell, since a last attempt to visit it, 
which had nearly resulted fatally. It was on 
a Tuesday. The queen had gone to walk with 
her son in his little garden. Bhe was insulted, 
E 



66 The Bourbon Prince. 

and threatened with violence. Four officers 
pierced the furious throng which surrounded 
the queen-mother and her son, and, rescuing 
them, bore them in safety to the palace. 

The aspect of the prince's little deserted gar- 
den, its yellow, faded grass, its flowers neglect- 
ed and burned up by the sun, showed too clear- 
ly the prolonged absence of the young proprie- 
tor. He, with his face pressed against the win- 
dow of his room, followed with an envious eye 
the promenaders, who, freer than he was, could 
at least breathe the air of heaven in the garden 
of his ancestors. He had only once again an 
opportunity of freely enjoying himself This 
was on a visit to the Marchioness of Leyde, in 
whose garden, in a remote faubourg of Paris, 
the prince royal played, for the last time, with 
a child of his own age. 

The most violent agitation continued to rule 
in Paris. Three of the revolutionary sections 
resolved not to consider Louis XVI. any longer 
king, and not to recognize either the National 
Assembly or the municipal government. " It 
is time," said they, " that the whole people 
should rise and govern themselves." It was re- 
solved, by the section over which Danton pre- 
sided, if the legislative body did not pronounce 
the king's forfeiture of the crown at nine o'clock 



Last Night at the Tuileries. 67 

in the evening, that at midnight an attack 
should be made on the palace of the Tuileries. 
This resolution was communicated to the other 
sections, and their concurrence invited. 

The threatening hour had arrived, and the 
Assembly had not yet decreed the forfeiture. 
Midnight struck. Immediately the tocsin was 
sounded, and re-echoed throughout Paris. 
Drums beat in all the military quarters, min- 
gled with the noise of cannon. The agitators 
armed themselves and thronged the streets. 
Each hour, each minute, brought still more 
alarming intelligence. The insurgents ap- 
proached in close column with their artillery. 
The break of day appeared. Marie Antoinette, 
in her foresight of approaching events, and in 
her fear lest her children should be surprised in 
bed, had them dressed, and kept them by her. 
The prince royal opened his large eyes, not un- 
derstanding this getting up at so unusual an 
hour, and all this military display and general 
disorder, and the confused tumult that prevailed 
in the apartments, in the court-yards and the 
gardens. However, in spite of the innocent 
thoughtlessness of his age, he discovered that 
a struggle was about taking place, and that 
his father was threatened with great danger. 
^' Mamma," said the poor child, kissing his 



68 The Bourbon Prince. 

mother's hands, " why would they hurt my fa- 
ther ? He is so good !" 

" Your last day has come," said an officer, 
as he entered the palace in haste " Madam, 
the people are the strongest : what carnage we 
are going to have !" 

" Sir," exclaimed Marie Antoinette, " save 
the king, save my children." 

The king was told that there was no safety 
for him or his family but under the protection 
of the National Assembly and the representa- 
tives of the people. 

i At a quarter past six o'clock in the morn- 
ing, Louis XVI., with Madam Elizabeth on his 
arm, and Marie Antoinette, leading her two 
children by the hand, set out for the Assembly ; 
a grenadier at the gate, however, took the prince 
royal and carried him in his arms. It was with 
difficulty that a way could be made for them 
through the tumultuous crowd, who indulged 
in all kinds of threats and insults against the 
royal family. " Death to the tyrant ! Death ! 
down with him!'''' w^as the furious cry on all 
sides. " Do not be frightened," said the gren- 
adier, who carried him, to the little prince, 
"• they won't hurt you." — " No, not me," re- 
plied the Dauphin, " but my father I" And his 
tears flowed. The king and his family reached 
the Assembly . 




The Tower of the Temple. 



Forfeiture of the Crown. 71 

In the mean time, havoc and death awaited 
those who had been left behind in the palace. 
It is not our purpose, however, to describe the 
general massacre which deluged the Tuileries 
with blood — the tumult, the pillage, the as- 
sassinations which marked that fatal day, and 
the horrible night which followed. 

The king was deposed. After the royal 
family had been kept in awful suspense for three 
days and three nights under the mockery of the 
protection of the National Assembly, it was 
finally resolved that they should take up their 
abode in the tower of the Temple. The palace 
having been pillaged, and seals affixed upon all 
that had not been laid waste or purloined by the 
revolutionary mob, the royal family were desti- 
tute of linen, clothes, articles of the toilet, and 
of every thing. M. Pascal, an officer of the 
Swiss Gruard, supplied the king with clothes ; 
the Duchess De Grrammont, the queen with 
body linen. The Countess of Sutherland, the 
wife of the English embassador, who had a son 
of the same age as the Dauphin, sent, for the 
use of the prince, some articles of dress of ab- 
solute necessity. 

The time for their departure for the Temple 
arrived. It was five o'clock in the evening 
when they set out from the Convent des Feu- 



72 The Bourbon Prince. 

illants, an old monastic building, in the cells 
of which they had passed the last three sleep- 
less nights. The corridor within and the court 
of the old monastery were obstructed with a 
compact crowd. The royal family and their at- 
tendants passed to their carriages with great 
difficulty. They were escorted by the National 
Gruard on foot, with their arms reversed, while 
a countless multitude, variously armed, throng- 
ed about, loudly yelling threats and curses. 
The soldiers did not strive to check the tumult 
or silence the cries. The coach was stopped a 
moment in the Place Yendome, that the king 
might contemplate the statue of Louis le 
Grrand, that had been thrown from its pedestal, 
broken, and trampled under foot, while the 
thousand voices of the maddened populace cried 
out, • ' This is the way we treat tyrants I" " How 
wicked they are I" exclaimed the prince royal, 
as he sat upon his father's knees and looked 
into his face for approval. " No, my son," said 
the king, with his usual charity, " not wicked, 
only deluded !" 

This mournful journey lasted two hours. 
They arrived at the Temple at seven in the 
evening. 



Chapter IV. 

fTlHE Temple is so closely associated with 
-*- the memory of the Dauphin, the son of 
Louis XVI., that we can hardly think of the 
Temple without thinking of the young prisoner. 
It was there he lived, suffered, and reigned ; if 
we can, without irony, call that painful agony 
a reign, which was endured from the death of 
the father to the death of the son. Louis XVII. 
is not called, in history, the Child of Versailles, 
or the Child of the Tuileries, but the Child of 
the Temple. 

The ancient edifice of the Temple was one 
of the most interesting historical monuments in 
France. It no longer exists, having been de- 
stroyed in the beginning of this century. It 
was built more than six hundred years ago, and- 
was associated in history with the faith, the 
chivalry, and the feats-at-arms of those gallant 
Christians, the Knight Templars. Above a 
mass of irregular buildings, which composed 
the Temple, there arose a very lofty, square 
tower, flanked by turrets, which the people of 
Paris designed for the prison of Louis XVI. and 



74 The Bourbon Prince. 

his family. It was, however, the small tower, 
which was attached to the larger, that the royal 
family was finally forced to occupy. The hody 
of this was divided into four stories. The first 
was composed of an ante-chamber and an eat- 
ing-room, which communicated with a closet, 
in which there was a hook-case, with some 
hundred volumes. Mesdames Thibaud, Basire, 
and Navarre slept in this dining-room, during 
the short time they remained in the Temple. 
On the second story you entered an ante-cham- 
ber that was very dark, in which the Countess 
De Lamballe slept. To the left was the room 
occupied by the queen and her daughter, the 
window of which looked into the garden. It 
was here — it being a little more cheerful than 
the other rooms — that the royal family passed 
almost the whole day. To the right, the prince 
royal, Madame De Tourzel, and Madame Saint 
Brice slept, in the same room. It was neces- 
sary to pass through this to get at the offices, 
which were used in common by the royal fam- 
ily, the municipal officers, and the common sol- 
diers. The third story was a repetition of the 
second. In the ante-chamber placed above that 
where the Countess of Lamballe slept, Hue and 
De Chamilly, the king's attendants, were lodg- 
ed. To the right of this ante-chamber was the 



The Temple. 77 

king's room, with a window that looked out 
upon the dome of the Temple. Some engrav- 
ings, the subjects of which were hardly decent, 
hung upon the walls of the room. The king 
removed them as soon as he arrived, saying, 
'' I do not wish my daughter to see such pic- 
tures." The little room in the turret served as 
the king's reading-room. On the other side of 
the ante-chamber, opposite to the king's room, 
was a small place, intended for the kitchen, and 
filled with cooking utensils. It was there that 
Madam Elizabeth, the king's sister, and Ma- 
dame De Tourzel slept. 

On the 19th of August, during the night, all 
the devoted friends and attendants who had 
followed the royal family into captivity were 
removed, under guard. The queen opposed her- 
self in vain to the departure of the Countess 
De Lamballe. Their farewell w^as heart-rend- 
ing. The two children, aroused by the noise, 
mingled their tears and embraces with this 
scene of grief ; and the municipal officers were 
obliged to force away Madame De Lamballe and 
Madame De Tourzel with violence. 

On the next day M. Hue alone was permit- 
ted to return. The joy of the prince royal at 
seeing M. Hue again was very lively ; and his 
disappointment was great at seeing his mother 



78 The Bourbon Prince. 

the queen, and his aunt, preparing to send some 
things that were absolutely necessary for the 
wants of their absent friends, who were now 
prisoners of La Force. The little prince, feel- 
ing sad on account of these preparations, which 
showed a prolonged absence, exclaimed, sorrow- 
fully, " But why do they keep Madame De Tour- 
zel from coming back ?" His little bed, since 
the night before, had been removed to his moth- 
er's room ; and the next day, after some painful 
news brought by the guard. Madam Elizabeth 
left her lodging in the second story, which had 
been formerly the kitchen. She then took pos- 
session of the former room of the Dauphin ; and 
the royal princess, who had hitherto slept with 
her mother, took up her quarters by the side of 
her aunt. 

Louis XVI. generally arose between six and 
seven o'clock in the morning, dressed himself, 
and then went into the closet in the turret, 
which connected with his room, shut himself 
up, said his prayers, and read until breakfast. 
In the mean time, the guard remained in the 
bed-room, with the door half open, that he might 
never lose sight of the king. The pious king 
remained on his knees for five or six minutes, 
and then read until nine o'clock. During this 
time M. Hue arranged the room, laid the break- 



t 



Occupation in Prison. 79 

fast-table, and then went down to the queen's 
apartments. 

Marie Antoinette generally arose earlier than 
the king, dressed her son herself, and heard him 
say his prayers. This was the only moment in 
the day that she was at liberty. The official 
spies passed the whole day in the very room of 
the queen, and the night in the place that serv- 
ed as the ante-chamber, to connect her lodging 
with that of Madam Elizabeth. 

At nine o'clock the queen, her children, and 
Madam Elizabeth went to breakfast with the 
king. Hue, after having waited upon them, 
made the rooms of the queen and the princesses. 

At ten o'clock the whole family went down 
to the queen's room and passed the rest of the 
day. Louis XYI. then gave his son lessons in 
the French language, in Latin, in history, and 
geography. Marie Antoinette occupied herself 
with teaching her daughter, and Madam Eliza- 
beth instructed her in drawing and arithmetic. 

At one o'clock, if the weather was fine, the 
royal family went out to walk in the garden, 
accompanied by four municipal officers, and the 
commander of the National Gruard. During the 
walk, the young prince played at ball, or quoits, 
or horse, and other amusements. The bad 
weather, or the absence of Santerre, who was 



80 The Bourbon Prince. 

the chief guard, and whose presence was neces- 
sary for the enjoyment of the privilege of going 
out, sometimes prevented this pleasure ; the 
deprivation of which was alone painful to the 
illustrious prisoners on account of their child, 
who required air and exercise. 

At two o'clock they ascended into the king's 
apartment for dinner. After they had dined, 
they went down again to the queen's room. 
This was the time for recreation. The chil- 
drens' amusements cast some rays of gayety 
into this sombre prison. Sometimes the king 
would select some book from the library. G-en- 
erally, however, the queen and Madam Eliza- 
beth would propose a game of piquet or back- 
gammon, in order to divert him from his reading 
and his work, which he was always eager to 
resume. 

Sometimes, about four o'clock, the king would 
take some moments of sleep in his arm-chair. 
Ranged about him, the princesses opened a 
book or took their work. The greatest silence 
was preserved. The Dauphin studied his les- 
sons. When his father awoke, he recited them, 
and went to his arithmetic and copy-book. Hue 
overlooked him. When his work was done, the 
little prince was taken to his aunt's room, where 
he played at ball or shuttle-cock. 



\ 



The Prince's Prayer. 81 

About seven o'clock the whole family placed 
themselves about the table. The queen and 
Madam Elizabeth, by turns, read aloud some 
book of history, or other choice work proper to 
instruct or amuse youth, but in which some un- 
foreseen coincidences with their position would 
often present themselves, and awaken painful 
reflections. Such coincidences were especial- 
ly frequent while reading Miss Burney's Ce- 
cilia. 

At eight o'clock M. Hue prepared the prince 
royal's supper. The queen directed its prep- 
aration. Louis XVI., in order to cheer up his 
family, would sometimes propose some enigmas, 
from an old volume of the Mercures de France 
that he found in the bookcase. The horizon of 
the family circle would clear up for an instant, 
under the influence of the sunny smiles of the 
children. After supper, the young prince was 
undressed and said his prayers. There was a 
particular one for the Princess De Lamballe, 
some for others, and this one for his family and 
governess : 

" Almighty Grod, who created and redeemed 
me, whom I adore. 

" Preserve the life of my father and my family. 

" Preserve us from our enemies. Grant to 
Madame De Tourzel the strength of which she 
F 



82 The Bourbon Prince. 

may stand in need, to "bear tlie ills she suffers 
for us." 

Marie Antoinette made him repeat these pray- 
ers to her when the municipal guards were far 
enough away not to hear ; but when they were 
too near, the child had the precaution to say 
them to himself, in a low voice. Adversity and 
captivity are rude but useful masters ; they 
teach prudence to simplicity, and give experi- 
ence to a child. 

Hue then put the little prince to bed. The 
queen and Madam Elizabeth took their places, 
alternately, by the side of him. The family 
having been served with their supper. Hue car- 
ried something to eat to the princess, who was 
watching at the prince's bedside. The king, 
when he arose from the table, went to see his 
son. In a few minutes afterward he quietly 
pressed the hands of his wife and sister, bid 
them a silent farewell, received the caresses of 
his children, and ascended to his room. Passing 
then into the turret, where he read and prayed, 
he did not leave it until midnight to go to bed. 

The princesses remained sometime longer to- 
gether, with their work in their hands. They 
often took this opportunity of repairing the 
clothes of the family ; and then, after a tender 
good -night, they left each other to go to bed. 



The Prince's Education. 83 

The king and the Dauphin having each only- 
one suit, Madam Elizabeth often spent many a 
long hour in the watch of the night repairing 
their clothes. 

The chief consolation of the king, in the an- 
guish of his imprisonment and suffering, was 
the education of his son. This child, who was 
only seven and a half years old, thought noth- 
ing of past greatness, but was happy in the pres- 
ent enjoyment of youth and life, and was never 
reminded of care but by the tears that he some- 
times saw in his mother's eyes. He never men- 
tioned the Tuileries or Versailles. He did not 
appear to have any regrets. He seemed to for- 
get his playthings and the tastes of childhood. 
His precocious intelligence responded perfectly 
to the tender care of the king. His memory 
was already stored with the fables of La Fon- 
taine, and some choice passages from Corneille 
and Racine. His father accompanied his read- 
ing with interesting explanations. The prince 
was constantly in the habit of reading French 
history, and the king used to dictate to him 
occasional passages out of the " Spirit of the 
League," which the prince would write down, 
and his father would afterward correct. In the 
study of geography, and in tracing out maps, 
Louis- Charles was quite a proficient. 



84 The Bourbon Prince. 

There was no kind of privation that the roy- 
al family was not forced to submit to. They 
were not allowed sufficient clothes, linen, bed 
and table cloths, and towels, for ordinary use. 
Hue was obliged to spread upon the prince roy- 
al's bed sheets and coverlets full of holes. They 
were exposed to all kinds of small annoyances 
and gross insults. The guards, as they lounged 
at the doors smoking their pipes, would puff 
their tobacco-smoke into their faces, and would 
put on their hats or take their seats whenever 
they saw the king or any of his family. The 
king's pockets were often searched in the rudest 
manner, and, finally, his sword was taken from 
him. The king was not allowed to see the 
daily papers, with the exception of those that 
were left designedly by the guards on his table. 
One day one of them had written upon a news- 
paper, in pencil, " Tyrant, tremble ! the guillo- 
tine is permanent!" Similar threats covered 
the walls ; the guards had scrawled them every 
where, even upon the door of the king's room. 

The intrusiveness of the municipal officers 
was not confined to the details of the daily life 
of the royal family, but they even interfered 
with the education of the prince royal. One 
day, one of them, being present while the prince 
was copying his writing lesson out of Montes 



The Days of September. 85 

quieu, found certain reflections from the " Spir- 
it of the Laws" not at all to his taste, and in- 
terrupted the study. " The prince should read," 
the officer said, "nothing but revolutionary 
works." On another occasion, the Dauphin was 
taking his Latin lesson, and pronounced a diffi- 
cult word badly. His father allowed the fault 
to pass. An officer who was present rudely 
observed, " You ought to teach that child to 
pronounce better ; for in these times he will be 
obliged, perhaps, to speak in public." As for 
arithmetic, the prince was obliged to give that 
up altogether. A municipal officer observed, 
one day, that he was learning the multiplication 
table ; he pretended that they were teaching 
him the art of writing in ciphers. The Coun- 
cil General in consequence denounced the mul- 
tiplication table, and interdicted all the rules of 
arithmetic. 

The dreadful days of September had arrived. 
Danton had said in the Assembly, " We must 
terrify the Royalists." The massacres of the 
prisoners succeeded. Of those persons who had 
been attached to the royal family, and had been 
forced from the Temple and thrown into La 
Force, Madame De Tourzel, the Dauphin's gov- 
erness, and Madame Saint Brice, his femme de 
chambre. were released. The Countess De 



86 The Bourbon Prince. 

Lamballe, Marie Antoinette's devoted friend, 
was massacred. On being questioned by the 
bloody tribunal of the people about the queen, 
she answered, " I have nothing to say to you. 
Death, sooner or later, is indifferent to me. I 
am quite ready." She had hardly spoken, when 
she was struck down with a sabre, and thrown 
upon a heap of dead bodies. Her body, beau- 
tiful even in death, was exposed to the licen- 
tious gaze of human monsters, and given up to 
indignities that cannibals would have blushed 
to look upon. They then took their knives and 
cut off her breasts and other parts of her per- 
son, severed the head, and one man opened 
her left side, and, plunging in his hand, drew 
out the bleeding heart. They then pierced 
the torn and bloody remnants of the beautiful 
countess with their lances, and bore them aloft 
in the savage triumph of violence and murder. 
A confused crowd of men, women, and children, 
covered with dirt and filth, ragged, drunken, 
furious, and wild, gathered together on the scent 
of blood. Led on by an old man and a child, 
raging and howling like fiends, the ferocious 
crowd rushed to the Temple, dragging after 
them, through the mud of the gutters and 
streets of Paris, the body of the countess, and 
bearing upon a pike her head. A French bar- 



LaLalballe. 87 

ber had delicately washed and perfumed the 
face, and dressed, curled, and adorned the hair 
of the dissevered head of the beautiful princess ; 
and thus it was borne by the crowd, and thrust, 
amid threats, and curses, and the cries of" La 
Lamballe ! La Lamballe /" into the windows 
of the Temple, almost into the very faces of the 
royal prisoners. A man, in the dress of the Na- 
tional G-uard, rushed into the tower, and insist- 
ed upon the royal family showing themselves 
at the window to the populace without. " No, 
no ! for G-od's sake, no ! — how horrible !" inter- 
posed one of the municipal officers. At which 
the man in the dress of the National Gruard 
cried out aloud, so as to be heard by the royal 
family, " They are trying to conceal from you 
the head of La Lamballe, which has been borne 
here to. show you how the people revenge them- 
selves upon their tyrants. I would advise you 
to appear, if you don't want the people to come 
after you." 

The queen swooned away. Madam Eliza- 
beth and the children, in tears, tried to revive 
her by their caresses. The man still remain- 
ing, the king said to him, " We are prepared 
for any thing, sir ; but you might have dis- 
pensed with informing the queen of this fright- 
ful event." He then went away with his com- 



88 The Bourbon Prince. 

rades. Their purpose was accomplished. The 
body and the head of the Princess De Lamballe 
after the unclean moh had ceased their sport, 
were gathered up and privately interred by the 
Duke De Penthievre. As for her heart, the hide- 
ous cannibal who had pounced upon it, repaired 
to the wine-shop opposite to the gate of the Tem- 
ple, had it cooked, and devoured it greedily, in 
the company of a comrade whom he had in- 
vited to the feast. 

The massacres continued systematically in 
the prisons of Paris, but the royal family was 
spared the knowledge of all the horror of those 
fatal days. The uniform life of the prisoners in 
the Temple was resumed. The officers, guards, 
and spies continued their intrusive vigilance 
and insults. Simon, a cobbler, of whom we will 
have occasion to say more at another time, was 
appointed one of the commissioners to inspect 
the state of the Temple. This man never ap- 
peared before the royal family without a gross 
insult on his lips. He often said to the king's 
attendant, Clery, loud enough for Louis XYI. to 
hear him, " Clery, ask Capet if he wants any 
thing, so that I may not have the trouble of 
coming up again." This Simon, insolent to the 
father, cruel to the son, was the personification 
of the bitter feeling of the lower classes to- 



Royalty Abolished. 89 

ward royalty. Oaths, indecencies, and threats 
were written with chalk and charcoal upon 
the walls. The queen and her children were 
gi'eeted with such inscriptions as Down with 
the Austria?i she-wolf! The young whelps 
must be strangled I 

On the 21st of Septemher, 1792, a municipal 
officer, surrounded with gendarmes and a large 
crowd, read the following proclamation in front 
of the tower : 

" Royalty is aholished in France. All pub- 
lic acts will be dated from the first year of the 
Republic. The seal of the state will bear as 
its motto, Repuhlique de France. The national 
seal will represent a woman, seated upon a 
bundle of arms, and holding in her hand a 
pike, surmounted by the cap of liberty." The 
royal family could hear the proclamation dis- 
tinctly. 

After supper one day, when the king was 
about leaving the room of Marie Antoinette to 
go to his own apartment, a municipal officer 
requested him to wait, as the council had some- 
thing to communicate to him. In a quarter of 
an hour after, the six commissaries, who had 
been appointed for the purpose, made their ap- 
pearance, and read to Louis XYI. a resolution, 
conveyed in the harshest terms, which ordered 



90 The Bourbon Prince. 

the separation of the king from his family. The 
king was deeply affected. This separation was 
the most cruel event that this severely afflicted 
family had yet suffered. Louis XVI.'s new 
apartment was in the large tower, where there 
was only a single bed, and no other furniture. 
His family was still allowed to visit him occa- 
sionally, and the king was enabled to continue, 
with some interruption, the education of his son. 
On the 26th of October, the queen, her children, 
and their aunt were also removed to the large 
tower. The young prince, however, was with- 
drawn from the care of his mother, and placed 
under the charge of his father. On the evening 
of the queen's taking possession of her new 
quarters, her son was taken from her, without 
any previous notice. Her grief was extreme. 
The last joy of her life was gone — the only ray 
which illumined her sad reflections, as dark as 
death. The unfortunate prince himself was so 
much afflicted at being torn from his mother, 
that he took the first opportunity of expressing 
his resentment. A mason, by the name of Mer- 
cereau, at work in the Temple, who thought the 
young prince did not treat him with the respect 
that one of the people in those revolutionary 
times was entitled to, said to the Dauphin, '' Do 
you know, young fellow, that liberty has made us 



Equal, not Free. 91 

all free, and that we are all equal ?" — '-'■Equal, 
if you please," answered the child ; " but it is 
not here," casting his eyes toward his father, 
" that you can persuade us that liberty has 
made us all free." 

The reunion of the royal family in the great 
tower brought with it few changes in their hab- 
its. Their meals, their reading, the education 
of the children were all regulated as before. 

The family were all taken ill in turn. When 
the young prince was sick with the hooping- 
cough, the queen requested permission to have 
the bed of her son removed from the king's to 
her own bed-room. This was refused. She 
also asked permission to pass the night by his 
bedside. She was only permitted to do so dur- 
ing the day. 

Brought up in the school of virtue and ad- 
versity, the heart of the young Dauphin opened 
to all tender and generous sentiments. His 
aunt, who was prevented, by the watchfulness 
of the guards, from seeing Clery, the attendant, 
who was ill, gave the little prince a box of loz- 
enges to give to Clery when he saw him. When 
the Dauphin was in bed, he called his attend- 
ant, in a low voice. Clery was surprised that 
the prince was not yet asleep, it being toward 
midnight. " Why are you not asleep ?" said 



92 The Bourbon Prince. 

Clery. '' Because," answered the prince, " my 
aunt gave me a box for you, and I did not want 
to go to sleep until you got it. It was quite 
time for you to be here, for my eyes have been 
closed several times." 

The young prince always showed great del- 
icacy of feeling, as well as affection, for his 
mother. A commissary once asked him why 
he looked so hard at him. " Because I know 
you well," said the prince, without reflection. 
'' And where have you ever seen me ?" The 
child looked at him again, without saying a 
word. To the question, frequently repeated, he 
refused constantly to answer. His sister, who 
was present, said, "My dear, keep still; you 
don't know him." But he whispered in her 
ear, " Say nothing about it to mamma ; it was 
on our journey to Varennes." 
i/bn another occasion he exhibited his filial 
tenderness for his father. A man was at work, 
putting some enormous locks upon the door of 
the king's room. The prince took up some of 
his tools to play with. Louis XYI. took them 
out of his son's hands to show him how they 
should be used, and began to work at the door. 
The locksmith, seeing the king at work, said, 
" When you leave here you will be able to say 
that you worked at your own prison." — "Yes," 



Trial AND Death. 93 

answered the king ; '' but how and when am I 
to leave ?" He had hardly uttered these words 
when the Dauphin, quite overcome, threw him- 
self, all in tears, into his father's arms. 

Louis XVI. was giving a lesson in reading to 
his son, when, at the hour of eleven, two mu- 
nicipal officers came to take the young prince 
to his mother. The king asked the reason. He 
was answered that it was according to order. 

H[^ouis XVI., having been forced to submit to 
the mockery of a trial, was finally condemned 
to death on the 20th of January, 1793. 

Permission had been granted the king to see 
his family before his execution. At the close 
of this sad interview, Louis XVI. took his son 
upon his knees, and said to him, '^My son, prom- 
ise me never to avenge my death ;" and, mak- 
ing him lift his hand, he continued, " Swear 
that you will obey the last wish of your father." 
These were the last words of Louis XVI. to the 
Dauphin of France.^ 



Chapter V. 

FTIHE Comte De Provenge, the brother of 
-*- Louis XYI., who was then an exile in 
"Westphalia, as soon as he heard of the death 
of the king, proclaimed, on the 28th of January, 
1793, the Dauphin his successor, with the title 
of Louis XYnr While the son of Louis XYI. 
was thus proclaimed king, the young prince 
was lamenting his father, in the arms of the 
widowed queen, within the bars of his prison. 
After the cruel parting on the evening of the 
20th of January, the queen had barely strength 
enough to undress and put the royal child to 
bed. She then threw herself, all dressed as she 
was, upon her own couch, where her sister and 
daughter, who were in the same room, heard 
her sobbing and trembling the whole night. 
Next day the whole family were up before the 
break of day. They awaited with trembling 
impatience, the hour of the promised interview 
with the king. Each minute upon the clock 
of the prison seemed to mark an age. A loud 
tumult that was heard announced the time for 
the departure of the king. The poor women. 



GrRIEF OF THE RoYAL FaMILY. 95 

prostrate and overcome, entreated pity. The 
Dauphin, wild with fright, bewildered, ran from 
guard to guard, clinging to the knees of one 
and kissing the hand of the other, and beseech- 
ingly entreating to be allowed to see his father. 
" Let me go, gentlemen ! let me go !" he cried. 
'' What for ?" they asked. " To ask the people 
not to kill my father ! In the name of God, let 
me go !" The jailers were deaf to all entreaty, 
and the royal family never saw Louis XVL' 
again. 

About ten o'clock, the queen urged her chil- 
dren to take some nourishment, which they, 
however, refused. A few moments after, they 
heard the firing of cannon and the cries of de- 
light of the maddened crowd. Madam Eliza- 
beth, lifting her eyes to heaven, exclaimed, 
" Monsters ! now they are happy." Maria The- 
resa, the young princess, gave vent to a piercing 
shriek. Her young brother wept. The queen, 
with her head bent, and with a haggard face, re- 
mained plunged in deep despair, cold and silent 
as death. The crier soon informed them offi- 
cially of the death of the king. 

The Dauphin, since morning, had clung to 
his mother. He kissed her hands, which he 
bathed with his tears. He tried to console her 
more by his caresses than his words. " These 



96 The Bourbon Prince. 

tears," said the mother, " which are flowing, 
will never again be dried. Those alone are 
punished who survive." No one slept during 
that night but the young prince. His sister had 
been prevailed upon to go to bed, but did not 
close her eyes ; while the mother and aunt min- 
gled their tears and their grief, as they sat near 
the bed of the Dauphin, who was sleeping in 
peace. 

The next morning the queen said to her son, 
as she kissed him, "My child, we must think 
of G-od." — " Mamma, I do think of Grod ; but 
when I think of him, my father's image rises 
before me." 

Suits of mourning were brought to the family 
on the 27th. "When the queen saw her chil- 
dren, for the first time, in their dark dresses, 
she said, " My poor children, it will be a long 
time for you ; for me, it will last always !" 

/^ith all the anguish and suffering of the 
queen, she had sufficient firmness to resume 
the education of her son, and he was taught by 
her and his aunt all the various branches of 
education, with the exception of Latin, com- 
menced by his father ; writing, geography, his- 
tory, &c. 

Countless were the insults to which the royal 
family were exposed. The surveillance of the 



HisIllness. 97 

guards and the attendants was ceaseless, and 
was exercised in the most intrusive and annoy- 
ing manner, ^^he most minute precautions 
were taken to prevent any communication with 
the prisoners from without. All consolation, 
all sympathy was carefully withheld. 

As an additional source of anxiety, the young 
prince fell ill'.' Marie Antoinette besought per- 
mission to have her physician in ordinary, M. 
Brunier, sent for, to attend him. This request ' 
was refused by the government, on the ground 
that it would be offensive to equality to have 
the prince attended by any other than the or- 
dinary medical attendant of the prisons. M. 
Thierry, who was the physician sent, was zeal- 
ous in his care and treatment of the Dauphin, 
who remained ill for several weeks. 

On the 1st of July, the Committee of Public 
Safety decreed as follows : 

" The Committee of Public Safety decrees 
that the son of Capet shall be separated from 
his mother, and placed in the hands of a tutor, 
determined by the choice of the Council Gren- 
eral."^ 

It was ten o'clock in the evening. The royal 
child was in bed, and in a profound sleep. There 
were no curtains to his bed; but a shawl, in- 
geniously arranged by the tender care of his 

a 



98 The Bourbon Prince. 

mother, shaded the light from his closed eyes, 
and prevented it from disturbing the calm and 
smiling repose of his sweet face. The queen and 
her sister had prolonged their nightly watch, 
and were mending the clothes of the family ; 
while Maria Theresa, the young princess, seat- 
ed between the two, was reading. Thus they 
were spending the evening. On a sudden, the 
sound of many steps was heard upon the stair- 
case. Locks were turned, bolts thrust back; 
the door opened ; six municipal officers entered. 
*'We come," one of them rudely said, "to no- 
tify you of the order of the committee, to the 
effect that the son of Capet shall be separated 
from his mother and his family." At these 
words the queen turned pale and started, ex- 
claiming, " Take away my child ! No, no, it 
is impossible!" Maria Theresa was standing 
up, trembling, at the side of her mother, while 
Madam Elizabeth listened and looked, with her 
heart almost bursting, but without shedding a 
tear. " Grentlemen," said the queen, trying to 
subdue with all her force the chill which made 
her voice tremulous, " they can never intend 
to separate me from my child ; he is so young, 
and so feeble, that he requires a mother's care." 
— " The committee have so decided, and we 
must immediately comply with their order." — 



Separation from his Mother. 99 

" I shall never be able to resign myself to the 
separation," cried the unhappy mother. '' Do 
not, for Grod's sake, put me to this cruel trial !" 
And her companions joined their tears and their 
prayers with the queen's. All three of them 
had placed themselves by the bed of the Dau- 
phin. They defended the approach to it ; they 
sobbed, they joined hands with each other. 

" What's the use of all this fuss," said the 
officers ; " they are not going to kill your child. 
Grive him up to us voluntarily, or we will have 
to force you." And they began to employ force. 
The curtain, having been detached in the strug- 
gle, fell upon the head of the young prince. He 
awoke, and observed what was going on ; he 
threw himself into his mother's arms ; he cried 
out, " Mamma ! mamma I don't leave me !" 
And his mother pressed her trembling child to 
her bosom, quieted and protected him, cling- 
ino^ with all her mio:ht to the bed. " Don't let 
us fight with the women," murmured one of 
the officers, who had not spoken before; "let 
us order up the guard." And he turned for 
that purpose to the turnkey, who was standing 
before the door. " For Heaven's sake, do not 
do so," said Madam Elizabeth. " What you in- 
sist upon by force, we must yield to ; but give 
us breathing time. The child wants sleep, and 



100 The Bourbon Prince. 

he can not sleep any where else. To-morrow 
we will give him up to you. Let him, at least, 
pass the night in this room, and do, we pray, 
arrange it so that he may come here every even- 
ing." There was no answer to these words. 
''At least," said Marie Antoinette, "promise me 
that he shall remain within the inclosure of the 
tower, and that I may be permitted to see him 
every day, if it be only at his meals." — " We 
have no account to render you, mistress ; and 
it is not for us to question the intentions of our 
country. The deuce ! because they take away 
your child, you are in a terrible state ! Ours 
are having their heads shot off every day by 
the balls of the enemy that you have brought 
to our frontier." — " My son," gently. replied the 
queen, " is too young yet to serve his country; 
but I hope some day, if Grod is willing, he may 
be proud to dedicate his life to it." 

In the mean time she was dressing her child ; 
and, although assisted by the two princesses, 
never did the dressing of a child take so long a 
time. Each article of dress was turned over 
and over again, passed from hand to hand, and 
moistened with tears. The separation was thus 
put off for some moments. The officers began 
to lo.se patience. 

Finally, the queen, having summoned all her 



Maternal Counsel. 101 

strength from the depths of her heart, seated 
herself upon a chair, put her son before her, 
placed her two hands upon his shoulders, and 
calm, motionless, collected in her grief, without 
shedding a tear or uttering a sigh, said to him, 
in a grave and solemn tone of voice, " My 
child, we are about parting. Remember your 
duties when I shall not be by your side to re- 
mind you of them. Never forget the Almighty, 
who tries you ; nor your mother, who loves you. 
Be virtuous, patient, and gentle, and your fa- 
ther, who is in heaven, will bless you." Thus 
she spoke, kissed her child's forehead, and hand- 
ed him over to the jailers. The poor child ran 
back to his mother, kissed her, and clung to her 
dress. '' My son, you must obey — you must !" 
— " Come, now, no more preaching, I hope," 
said one of the officers ; " you have abused our 
patience terribly." — " You might, my woman, 
have dispensed with that long lesson," said an- 
other, dragging the prince violently out of the 
room. " Don't trouble yourself," continued a 
third ; " the nation, always great and gener- 
ous, will provide for his education." And the 
door closed. 



Chapter VI. 

THE young king was borne to that part of 
the tower that had been occupied by his 
father, and was left alone in the presence of Si- 
mon his tutor, 

Simon was a shoemaker by trade. He was 
a man about fifty-seven years of age, below 
middle size in stature, robust and square built, 
of a swarthy complexion, with a coarse expres- 
sion of face, black hair, which grew down to 
his eyebrows, and thick bushy whiskers. His 
wife was about the same age. She was very 
short, very fat, and very ugly ; like her hus- 
band, her complexion was dark and coarse. 
She generally wore a cap, with red ribbons, and 
a blue apron. She was a rustic, uneducated 
person. She had no children, but often ex- 
pressed her regret at not having any. When 
the proposition of appointing a tutor to the little 
Capet was under discussion, Marat proposed 
Simon for the place, and he was seconded by 
Robespierre. 

It was half past ten o'clock when the young 
prince was brought to his ^M^or Simon. The 



Silent Gtrief. 103 

child wept a long time, and remained seated in 
the furthest corner of the apartment for many- 
hours without saying a word. The young prince 
refused all nourishment, with the exception of 
a crust of bread, for two whole days. Some- 
times he grieved in silence ; at others the fire 
of indignation would sparkle through his tears, 
and he would mingle angry words with his 
complaints. " I wish to know," said he, in an 
imperious tone, to one of the municipal officers, 
" by what law I am separated from my mother 
and put in prison. Show me the law — I want 
to see it ?" The officers were unable to answer 
him. Simon, however, was always ready to 
come to their aid, saying, " Shut your mouth, 
young Capet ; you must not ask questions 
here.'' 

'^wo days passed thus, the child resisting, and 
asserting his independence. He finally resign- 
ed himself, with a good grace, to going to bed ; 
and in the morning he got up and dressed him- 
self without being ordered. He wept no lon- 
ger, but he did not speak. " Eh, then, little 
Capet," said his master to him, " you are dumb, 
are you ? I must teach you how to speak, and 
to sing the Carmagnole^ and to cry Vive la 
Republique I You are dumb, are you ?" — " If 
I. should say aloud what I am thinking about 



104 The Bourbon Prince. 

to myself," said the royal child, ''you would 
think me mad. I am silent because I have too 
much to say." — "Oh, oh! Master Capet, too 
much to say ; there's an aristocrat for you. 
Do you hear, sirrah, that won't suit me ! You 
are young, and we must excuse you ; but that 
won't do for me. I am your master, and I 
must not let you wallow in ignorance. I must 
bring you forward, and teach you the new 
ideas." 

Simon, in a moment of generosity, or with a 
sinister design, made his pupil a present of a 
jews-harp. " Your she- wolf of a mother and 
your slut of an aunt play on the harpsichord ; 
you must accompany them on the jews-harp. 
What a jolly clatter you'll make of it I" The 
child thought that an insult was intended by 
this gift, and he threw it away and refused to 
play upon it. This refusal enraged Simon, and 
was the cause of the first blows he had ever re- 
ceived. Simon did not confine himself to ver- 
bal reprimands, but frequently resorted to the 
most brutal infliction of bodily punishment. 
" You may punish me if I am at fault," said 
the child, " but you must not beat me, sir, do 
you hear! You are stronger than I am." — "I 
am here, little animal, to command you. I can 
do what 1 wish. Vive la liberie / Vegalite /" 



A Rumor. 105 

On Sunday, the 7th of July, 1793, a rumor 
circulated throughout Paris, to the effect that 
the plot of Greneral Dillon and his accomplices, 
in spite of their being arrested, had succeeded ; 
that the son of Louis XYL had escaped from 
the tower, had been seen on the Boulevards, 
and carried in triumph to St. Cloud. The 
crowd rushed to the Temple, eager to know the 
truth. The guard, who had not seen the prince 
since he had been delivered up to Simon, stated 
that he was no longer in the tower. This gave 
increased currency to the popular rumor. 

In order to quiet this rumor, a deputation was 
ordered, by the Committee of Greneral Safety, 
to proceed immediately to the Temple and in- 
vestigate the truth of the report, and to estab- 
lish officially the fact of the presence of the 
royal child in the tower. Chabot and Drouet, 
two of the most inveterate revolutionists, were 
members of this deputation, and exhibited their 
zeal in the rudest and most cruel manner. They 
had hardly reached the Dauphin's room, when 
they ordered the tyranVs son to go down at 
once into the garden, that the soldiers on guard 
might see him with their own eyes. The dep- 
utation then assembled in Simon's apartment, to 
inquire into the manner in which he had carried 
out the decree of the government. The plain 



106 The Bourbon Prince. 

understanding of Simon did not, at first, con- 
ceive what the intentions of the committee were. 
He really thought that their purpose was to 
make a simple republican out of the royal 
prince ; to put, in fact, the bonnet rouge upon 
the head of the young Capet, in lieu of a crown 
upon the royal brow of Louis XYIL He began, 
however, at last to have some suspicion of their 
designs, and questioned them, accordingly, with- 
out further circumlocution. '''•Citizens^'''' he 
asked, ^^ivhat are you going to do with the 
young whelp ? He has been taught to be in- 
solent : I knoiv how to master him. If he 
breaks his hearty so much the worse for him. 
I will not answer for it. But what do you 
intend to do loith him? Send him away?'''' 
Answer — " No !"— " Kill him .?" — '' No !" — 
'' Poison him .?"— " No I"—'- Well, lohat then .?" 
Answer — " Get rid of him .'" This, indeed, 
was the design that was carried out with great 
perseverance, for two years ; as has been said. 
He was neither killed nor sent away, but he 
was got rid of. 

As soon as the prince reached the garden, he 
began to call after his mother with loud cries. 
Some of the guard, trying to quiet him, pointed 
out Simon, who was coming out of the tower, 
when the prince said to them, very indignantly. 



G-RIEF OF THE QuEEN. 107 

*' They will not, they can not show me the law 
which orders my separation from my mother !" 
One of the guards, surprised at his firmness, 
and affected by his filial tenderness, asked Simon 
what it all meant. Simon only said, " The 
whelp is hard to muzzle. He is like you ; he 
wants always to know the law. Just as if it 
was any thing to him ! Silence, Capet, or I 
will show these citizens how I manage you 
when you deserve it !" The unfortunate little 
prisoner turned toward the municipal officers 
and entreated their pity, but it was of no avail. 
The commissaries, after their interview with 
the Dauphin, paid a visit to Marie Antoinette. 
They examined and scrutinized, with the sharp 
eye of the police, every corner of her apartment. 
They then asked if she was in want of any thing. 
" I want nothing," she said, " but my son. It 
is indeed too cruel to keep him away from me." 
— " Your son is well taken care of. He has 
for his preceptor a patriot ; and you have no 
more reason to complain of the manner in which 
he is treated than you have to complain of your 
own treatment." — "I only complain of one 
thing ; and that is, the absence of my child, 
who has never before been away from me. It 
is now five days since he was torn from me, 
and I have not been allowed to see him once, 



108 The Bourbon Prince. 

although he is ill, and requires my care. I can 
not think it possible that the Convention does 
not appreciate the justice of my complaints." 

The deputation reported to the Convention 
that " they found the son of Capet quietly play- 
ing a game of checkers vi^ith his master ;" and 
that, " on entering the apartments of the v^^omen, 
they found Marie Antoinette, her sister, and her 
daughter in the enjoyment of perfect health ; 
that notwithstanding the report, among foreigr 
nations, of their ill treatment, they acknowledg- 
ed, in their presence, that they were in want of 
nothing." There was no allusion to the cries 
of the child for his mother, the tears of the 
queen for her son, and the bitter anguish of the 
wretched prisoners. 

From this time, the young disciple was treat- 
ed with increased severity by his master. When 
Simon heard of the success of the Austrian 
army, he sprang upon the child, exclaiming, 
'' Cursed whelp, you are half an Austrian, and 
you accordingly deserve to be half killed !" 

A day or two subsequently, Simon's wife en- 
tered the apartment, looking much frightened. 
She had just heard of the assassination of Marat. 
Her husband could not believe the news. Simon 
left his prisoner for the first time, and went out 
to inquire about the truth of the rumor he had 






Death of Marat. 109 

heard from his wife. The news was well-found- 
ed, and had spread every where, causing a great 
sensation in the city, but affecting no one more 
than Simon, who claimed Marat as his partic- 
ular friend, and looked up to him as his model 
of a republican citizen. Simon returned. Dur- 
ing his absence he had ordered some wine and 
brandy. He began drinking and smoking his 
pipe, and tried to console himself. Heated with 
drink, he insisted upon his wife and the young 
prince going out upon the platform of the tow- 
er, where they might listen to the tumult of the 
people, excited by the death of Marat. 

" Do you hear, Capet, the noise yonder?" said 
the brutal jailer. " It is the groans of the peo- 
ple for the murder of their friend. I thought 
of taking off your mourning to-morrow ; but 
now I will make you wear it longer. Capet 
will wear mourning for Marat. Cursed little 
viper, you don't seem to be at all sorry : you 
are glad he is dead, then!" And, as he spoke, 
he struck the prince a violent blow. " I nev- 
er knew the person who is dead ; but be sure 
I am not glad of it. We do not desire the death 
of any one." — " Oh we, don't we .' . . . Do 
you pretend to address us like those tyrant fa- 
thers of yours ?" — "I said ive, in the plural," 
answered the child, "meaning my family and 



110 The Bourbon Prince. 

myself." Simon, somewhat appeased by this 
grammatical explanation, became less angry, 
and continued to walk about, listening to the 
murmur of the excited city, and repeating, 
with a diabolical laugh, " Capet will wear 
mourning for Marat !" 

On the 16th of July, the funeral of Marat 
took place with great pomp. Simon regretted 
that his duties in the tower deprived him of be- 
ing present on so solemn an occasion. His 
wife, however, was enabled to see all the dis- 
play of the ceremony. When Simon thought 
of her seeing the body of Marat in state, and 
enjoying the consolation of following in the fu- 
neral procession, his envy was greatly excited. 
He kept walking about the whole day in his 
apartment, like a caged tiger. Although obliged, 
by his duties as a jailer, to keep at home, he 
did honor to the occasion by wearing his bonnet 
rouge with a cockade, and his tri-colored scarf. 

Some days afterward, news having arrived 
of the defeat of the republican army near Sau- 
mur, Simon came in, in a rage, which he vent- 
ed upon the person of the unhappy prince. "It 
is your friends, you young villain, who are cut- 
ting our throats I" And he redoubled his blows. 
The poor child might well say, "It is not my 
fault." The pitiless jailer, however, took him 



Sorrow and Suffering. Ill 

by the hair, and nearly wrenched his head from 
his shoulders. The child smothered his com- 
plaints ; big tears, however, rolled down his 
cheeks ; but not a cry escaped him, lest it 
should be heard elsewhere in the tower, and 
reach his mother's ears. 

It was long since his former gayety had left 
him, and that the roses of health had faded 
from his cheeks. His body suffered as much 
from weakness as his mind did from grief. He 
slept less than he used to. His moral condition 
was as yet innocent of all corruption. 

Simon made him go down every day into the 
garden. Sometimes he was taken out upon the 
tower, where his jailer used to go for his own 
pleasure, to enjoy the air and smoke his pipe at 
his ease. The prince always followed him, as 
a whipped dog, with his head hanging down, 
fearing to meet the eye of his master, which 
was sure to look upon him with hatred and 
vengeance. 

Of course, the education of the prince, un- 
der such a master, had nothing to do with learn- 
ing, and the child was deprived of his books 
and of all means for the improvement of his 
mind. The idleness to which his naturally act- 
ive intelligence was condemned soon resulted 
in weariness and increased anguish. Having 



112 The Bourbon Prince. 

no diversion for his mind, he gave himself up 
to melancholy thoughts and the most painful 
remembrances. 

On the day after his being taken away, the 
queen had requested permission to send the 
prince his books of study, his writing materials, 
and his playthings. His books were used by 
Simon to light his pipe, his writing materials 
were thrown helter skelter into a corner, and 
his playthings were broken or thrown away. 
What with revolutionary songs, patriotic odes, 
bloody jokes, and the oaths then in fashion, the 
hours of study and of recreation of the young 
Capet were fully occupied. Study, writing, 
history, geography, the adventures of Telema- 
chus, and the fables of La Fontaine, could only 
have served to cultivate his mind and improve 
his heart ! 

It was now a fortnight since the queen had 
beheld her son. She was not yet aware into 
what hands the prince had fallen, nor did she 
know that he had been separated from her, in 
order that his bodily vigor, his moral feeling, 
and his intellect might be destroyed. Her 
fears -were great, but not equal to the frightful 
reality. She had no suspicion that her son was 
to be brought up through the various degrees 
of dishonor, to acquire not only the coarse hab- 



The Prince a Jacobin. 113 

its, but the ignoble sentiments, and even the 
songs insulting to his father's memory, of his 
jailers, charged with the double office of op- 
pressing and brutalizing the prince. 

Simon made him wait upon him at table, 
and forced him, by blows, to descend to the 
most vile and humiliating offices. Wishing to 
supply the prince with a new suit of clothes, in 
the fashion of the times, Simon stripped off his 
mourning dress, and clothed him in a little coat 
of red cloth, made in the style of the revolu- 
tionary carmagnole^ a pair of pantaloons of the 
same stuff, and a bonnet rouge^ the classical 
uniform of a Jacobin. " If I make you take 
off your mourning for Marat," said Simon to 
him, "you shall, at any rate, wear his livery, 
and honor his memory in that way." The scar- 
let cap, however, was not immediately forth- 
coming. It had been ordered, but was for- 
gotten by the tailor. The cap at last arrived, 
and Simon wanted his prisoner to adorn him- 
self with it at once ; but he met with a resist- 
ance on the part of the prince that he had by 
no means expected ; blows went for nothing ; 
the child resisted, and would not be prevailed 
upon to wear the bonnet rouge. He had be- 
come the servant of his jailers, he had received 
patiently a thousand insults, endured number- 
H 



114 The Bourbon Prince. 

less privations, but he would not submit to put 
upon his head the cap worn by the execution- 
ers of his father. Simon yielded, finally, weary 
with scolding and beating him, and prevailed 
upon by the interposition of his wife, who said, 
" Come, come, Simon, leave him ; he will not 
be so obstinate again." This was not the only 
occasion when this woman interposed. She had 
every reason in the world to be satisfied with the 
child. One day, while giving an account to her 
old mistress, whose servant she had been, of 
what was going on at the Temple, she said, 
'' The little fellow is a nice and amiable child ; 
he cleans my shoes, and brings me the foot- 
stove to my bed when I get up in the morn- 
ing !" Alas ! what a change, from the Royal 
Dauphin, presenting the queen mother every 
morning with a bouquet, and the poor little 
prisoner Capet, bearing the foot- stove to the 
cobbler's wife ! 

''But," said her old mistress to Simon's wife, 
" what a shame to let the son of your king 
wait upon you in this way." Mistress Simon 
was not a cruel, but an ignorant woman ; she 
did not like to see the prince boaten, but had 
no objection to have him brutalized. To the 
ill treatment of the child, the threats, tortures, 
cruel beatings, and neglect, was added the free 



The Bonnet Rouge. 115 

indulgence in wine. Every effort was made 
to destroy the body and corrupt the heart of the 
poor youth. 

Mistress Simon hit upon an expedient, that 
had hitherto escaped her, for spoiling the good 
looks of the child, by cutting off his hair. The 
prince remained silent and sad the whole day. 
Whether it was that he felt the want of his 
hair, or that he was stupefied with the wine 
with which he had been plied, the poor boy al- 
lowed Simon to put the bonnet rouge upon his 
head, the brutal jailer exclaiming, as he did it, 
"Ah, Capet, there you are at last, a true Jac- 
obin !" 

The walk on the platform of the tower was 
divided by a board partition, in such a way that 
the prisoners could only see each other through 
the crevices, and at a distance. His mother, 
aunt, and sister were always contriving to be 
present on the platform at the same time as the 
little prince, in order that they might at least 
get a glance at him. " We went out often upon 
the tower," says Maria Theresa, " because my 
brother also went out ; and the sole pleasure of 
my mother consisted in looking through a crev- 
ice at him as he passed in the distance." But 
the choice of the hours for their walks did not 
depend upon the prisoners themselves. The 



116 The Bourbon Prince. 

municipal guards regulated the time for the 
queen, and the caprice of Simon decided the 
moment for the young prince. It was only, 
therefore, by a happy chance that they were 
out at the same time. It did not matter. The 
queen was never wearied of watching. She 
was not sure that her child would come, but 
he might. With her ears and eyes close to the 
board partition, she caught the least sound, or 
heard the lightest stir, that might indicate the 
approach of her darling boy. In spite of con- 
stant disappointment, the queen was not dis- 
couraged. A mother's heart is always patient. 
Finally, one day Marie Antoinette did catch a 
glance of her son ; but the happiness she had 
so eagerly hoped for was turned into bitter an- 
guish. Her child passed before the eyes of his 
mother. He had left off his mourning for his 
father. He wore the bonnet rouge upon his 
head. That insolent fellow who had so grossly 
insulted Louis XVI. and herself was by his side. 
On that day, too, by a fatal mischance, it hap- 
pened that Simon, having heard of the taking 
of Valenciennes by the Duke of York, was in a 
paroxysm of rage, and vented it in bitter threats 
and curses upon the head of the young prince. 
Overcome bv the sight, Marie Antoinette threw 
herself, sobbing piteously, into the arms of her 



Affliction of the Queen. 117 

sister, who had been, like herself, a witness of 
the cruel scene. Her daughter was hastening 
also to the partition, when her mother drew her 
away, wishing to save her the misery of know- 
ing her brother's sufferings, and said, "It is 
useless to watch any longer ; he will not come." 
They then walked to the other side of the plat- 
form. The poor mother, however, returned to 
the partition, to get another glance at her child. 
She saw him again. He was walking quietly 
along, with his head bent ; his master was no 
longer swearing at him, and she did not hear a 
word uttered. This silence of the child was as 
sad an affliction to the queen as the outrages 
of the brutal Simon. She remained fixed to the 
spot, silent and motionless, until drawn away 
by her sister. 

The queen and Madam Elizabeth, her sister- 
in-law, now knew the deplorable condition of 
the Dauphin. They learned through Tison, 
who was at first placed as a spy upon the royal 
family, but became afterward of a friendly dis- 
position, that the prince was never addressed 
but with an oath, never commanded but with 
a threat, and that every attempt was made to 
force him to sing obscene verses or regicide 
songs. They, moreover, learned that, as yet, 
the heroic prince was proof to all these malig- 



118 The Bourbon Prince. 

nant efforts, and that blows could obtain noth- 
ing from him. 

The next day, and the day after, the queen 
and her sister went out again and again upon 
the tower. They passed many hours there. 
They could see nothing. Marie Antoinette nev- 
er saw her child again. 

^t two o'clock on the morning of the 2d of 
August, 1793, the princesses were awakened 
from sleep, by the municipal officers coming to 
read to the queen the decree which ordered her 
removal to the Conciergerie. She listened to 
the reading of the decree without uttering a 
word. Madam Elizabeth, however, and Maria 
Theresa, the queen's daughter, earnestly sup- 
plicated permission to accompany Marie Antoi- 
nette. While the queen was making up her 
bundle of clothes, the municipal officers never 
left her for a moment. She was even obliged 
to dress herself in their presence. They search- 
ed her pockets, and took every thing away from 
her but her handkerchief and a smelling-bottle. 
She took the most affecting farewell of her sis- 
ter and daughter. As she descended the stairs, 
she cast a last sad glance upon the door of the 
prison of her son ; that son to whom she was de- 
nied a parting kiss ; that son whom she knew 
she was leaving in the hands of Simon. 



A. LITTLE GrUILLOTINE. 119 

On the very day that the queen was thrust 
into the Conciergerie^ the government, with a 
malevolent thoughtfulness, sent the young 
prince some toys, among which was a little 
guillotine. One of the commissaries in the 
Temple, however, as soon as he saw it, threw 
it with indignation into the fire. 



Chapter Yll. 

ONE day the wife of Simon went to see the 
tragedy of Brutus, and returned full of 
enthusiasm. She commenced to describe, in 
her way, the plot of the piece, and the playing 
of the actors. Simon listened with great de- 
light ; but, observing that the young prince had 
turned away his head, and seemed indifferent, 
or determined not to hear, "Cursed whelp!" 
he exclaimed, with rage ; " you won't listen, 
then, that you may learn and be enlightened ! 
You want to remain always a fool, and the son 
of a tyrant !^' — " Every one has parents whom 
he ought to honor," answered the child. This 
enraged his master, who, striking the prince 
with the back of his hand and giving him a 
kick, knocked him to the further end of the 
room. 

Simon always called the young prince to ac- 
count for every counter-revolutionary move- 
ment. A rising having taken place at Mont- 
brison, in favor of Louis XVIL, Simon, a few 
days after, said, "Wife, I present to you the 
King of Montbrison ;" and, taking off from the 



Vive la Republique 121 

prince's head his republican cap, he continued 
addressing the child. " I am going to anoint, 
and consecrate, and offer up incense to you. 
Look !" And the brute rudely rubbed the head 
and the ears of the prince, puffed tobacco smoke 
from his pipe into his face, and shoved him to- 
ward his wife. *' Now, then, wife, it is your 
turn to present your compliments to his maj- 
esty !" 

On the 10th of August, there was a grand 
fete in honor of the new Constitution of the re- 
public. Simon was enraged that his duties 
confined him to the prison, and made him as 
much of a prisoner as his young captive. At 
the break of day, the cannon thundered, awak- 
ening the echoes of the old Temple. Simon was 
up early, and, arousing the prince, ordered him 
to cry Vive la Republique ! The child, with 
his eyes only half open, did not understand 
what was said to him. He got up and dressed 
himself, without saying a word. Simon, cross- 
ing his arms, stood before him, and repeated, 
authoritatively, '' Come, Capet, this is a great 
day ; you must cry Vive la Republique I or — " 
and his gesture completed his sentence with 
more force than words. The prince raised his 
head and looked at his jailer with a steady 
eye, and said, with firmness, " You may do 



122 The Bourbon Prince. 

what you please, but *I will never cry Vive la 
Republique /" Simon himself seemed to be 
awed, and only remarked, "All the world shall 
know of your conduct." 

Simon was not always able to restrain him- 
self as on that occasion. Next day, he was 
reading aloud from one of the Paris newspapers 
an account of the proceedings on the day of 
the fete. He insisted upon the prince's listen- 
ing to the long and fiery harangues of the or- 
ators on that occasion. The child appeared to 
listen with a good grace, until Simon came to 
the oration of the president of the Convention, 
delivered in the Place de la Revolution, which 
began with these words : " Here the ax of the 
law struck down the tyrant. Let all these dis- 
graceful marks of servitude which despots pre- 
sented in every form to our gaze be destroyed ; 
let fire destroy them, that nothing may remain 
but the sentiment of virtue which overturned 
them. Justice ! Vengeance ! ye tutelary saints 
of a free people, affix forever the curse of man- 
kind to the name of that traitor who, upon a 
throne raised by generosity, deceived the con- 
fidence of a magnanimous people." The child 
could not endure this, but turned his back upon 
his master, and went into the recess of the win- 
dow to hide his face and his tears. Simon fol- 



I 



The Republic is Eternal. 123 

lowed him, and dragged him back by the hair, 
and made him stand up, under the threat of a 
beating, until he had heard every word. The 
child, with his handkerchief to his eyes, ap- 
peared to listen, without a murmur. The fu- 
rious Jacobin watched like a tiger every move- 
ment of his victim. To add to the torture, he 
read and re-read every passage that was most 
insulting. He repeated over and over again 
these words from one of the addresses: "Let 
us swear to defend the Constitution until death. 
The republic is eternal." The boy remained 
quiet and resigned. Simon was enraged in con- 
sequence of this very tranquillity ; he was not 
at all satisfied with the patience of the prince. 
"Do you hear, Capet?" said he. "Let us 
swear to defend the Constitution until death. 
The republic is eternal. Come, you must say 
as we do, the republic is eternal I" As he spoke, 
he caught hold of the child, and tried to shake 
the words out of him by force. " There is noth- 
ing eternal !" replied the prince ; and as soon as 
he said so, Simon, with a terrible oath, threw 
him lipon his bed. " Let him alone," inter- 
posed Simon's wife ; "he has been brought up 
in ignorance and deceit." Simon approached 
him, with his journal in his hand, gesticulating 
with violence. He stopped in a moment before 



124 The Bourbon Prince. 

the bed where the prince was weeping. " It is 
your fault," said his tutor ; " if I treat you so, 
you have deserved it." — "I was mistaken," 
said the child, whose sobs almost deprived him 
of speech, " I was mistaken. Grod is eternal, 
but no one else !" 

'^ About this time, while the queen was in 
close confinement in the Conciergerie, the police 
distributed, or caused to be sold in the streets, 
various pamphlets and songs against the Aus- 
trian she-wolf. This was preparatory to the 
trial of the queen. " Come, Capet, come sing 
this for me," said Simon, one day, as he handed 
the prince one of these obscene songs, insulting 
his mother. He took it, and put it upon the 
table, without saying a word. Simon was in a 
rage, and cried out, "I thought I told you to 
sing; you must do as I bid you." — "I will 
never sing such a song," answered the child. 
" If you don't, I'll kill you." As he spoke, he 
took hold of an andiron, and, as the child re- 
peated never, he threw it at him, and if he had 
not dodged the blow, he would have been cer- 
tainly killed. 

^ Simon was certainly a faithful servant of the 
Convention, and carried out to the full their 
diabolical purpose. After the queen had left 
the tower, he redoubled his arts for the destruc- 



/ 



Plied with Wine. 125 

tion of the bodily health, and the corruption of 
the moral purity of his victim. Perhaps he had 
received orders to hasten in bringing about the 
desired result. He changed the mode of living 
of the royal prisoner ; he forced him to eat more 
than usual, and to drink freely of v^^ine ; he only 
allowed him a very little exercise ; he shortened 
the time for recreation in the garden, and did 
not permit him to walk out on the tower. 
These changes worked a serious effect upon his 
health and his spirits ; he became dull, fat, and 
ceased to grow. He had never drank any thing 
but water until he came under the rod of Si- 
mon ; he had great aversion for wine, and his 
disgust at it made him sick at the stomach, and 
/^jfinally quite ill. No notice of his illness was 
given to the authorities. Simon's wife, like 
most old women, having some pretensions to a 
knowledge of physic, gave him some drug or 
other, which made the prince worse. He, how- 
ever, after a severe fever, which lasted three or 
four days, recovered. His bad treatment, how- 
ever, was renewed ; he was still made to eat ex- 
cessively, and drink constantly of wine until he 
became intoxicated ; and when his reason was 
thus affected, it used to be the devilish delight 
of Simon to make him sing obscene songs and 
utter frightful oaths. 



126 The Bourbon Prince. 

One day, Simon, who was drunk, was making 
the prince wait upon him, as usual, at table. 
Not very well pleased with the manner in which 
he served him, he struck the child with his nap- 
kin, which was very near putting out his eye. 
One of the commissaries, M. Leboeuf, who hap- 
pened to enter the room at that moment, was 
about speaking to disapprove of such violence, 
when Simon, interrupting him, said, " Look, 
citizen, how awkward the whelp is ! They 
wanted to make a king of him, and he is not 
good enough for a servant ! Come, friend, sit 
down, and take something to drink ; he will 
wait upon you also. Come, don't be afraid nor 
ashamed." At these words M. Leboeuf cast a 
look of indignation at the fellow, and said, "I 
am not afraid ; but are you not ashamed ?" As 
Simon did not seem to understand him, " Yes, 
I repeat, are you not ashamed to treat a child 
so ? You have gone beyond your orders ; it is 
a libel on the government to suppose that it is 
an accomplice of your brutality." Simon did 
not answer, but he did not forget or forgive 
what Leboeuf had said to him. The latter was 
denounced by Simon and imprisoned, but after- 
ward set free. 

Madam Elizabeth, the aunt of the prince, re- 
ceived constant intelligence of the ill treatment 



Cries of Suffering. 127 

of her suffering nephew, but she could not be 
prevailed upon, at first, to believe what she 
heard about the cruelty of Simon, so much did 
it seem to transcend the utmost perversity of 
human nature. She, however, did not long re- 
main in doubt. Simon would raise his voice so 
high, that his oaths and blasphemies could be 
heard even in Madam Elizabeth's apartment. 
The most dreadful thing, however, to her, was 
that these oaths and blasphemies were some- 
times followed by the plaintive cries of a feeble 
child, although the poor prince did his utmost 
to suppress them. His sister, too, had heard 
the cruel lamentations of her brother, and had 
recognized his voice, mingled with that of Si- 
mon, in the Marseillaise and Carmagnole^ and 
other revolutionary ditties. 

While the prisoners of the tower were in com- 
munication with the queen, the latter would con- 
stantly send the most anxious inquiries about 
her children ; and Madam Elizabeth strove to 
give her all the comfort and consolation she 
could, and which she did not feel, for the echoes 
of the tower repeated daily the horrible blasphe- 
mies of the jailer, and the sad cries of the young 
prisoner. 

Madam Elizabeth made every attempt to in- 
duce Simon to exercise less brutality toward 



128 The Bourbon Prince. 

the royal child. Whenever a new municipal 
officer arrived, the princess would, with prayers 
and entreaties, beg of him to intercede in be- 
half of her nephew, to try and induce Simon 
to treat him more leniently. She was often 
flatly refused, some being afraid to intercede, 
and others approving of the brutality of the 
cruel tutor. There was one, however, a man 
by the name of Barolle, who could not resist 
the prayers of Madam Elizabeth. He was a 
father ; and he boldly spoke to Simon, and com- 
plained of his oaths and blasphemies, which he 
had heard himself, even in the princesses' room. 
" I know what I am doing," said the jailer, " and 
what I have got to do. In my place you would, 
perhaps, only go a little faster." These words 
of Simon seemed to indicate that, in destroying 
the prince by degrees, he was only complying 
with what he supposed to be the design of the 
government. 

The daughter of Tison, an attendant upon 
the royal family, was about leaving the tower. 
She had been asked by Madam Elizabeth to try 
and see the prince. She asked permission, but 
was rudely refused. Simon, when he heard of 
this request, became terribly enraged. " It was 
right not to let the young citizen woman come 
in. She had nothing to see or to do here, noth- 



King of Toulon. 129 

ing to say. Had she, Capet ?" said he, raising 
his voice, and looking at his prisoner with an 
eye of fierce cruelty. " It was right," said the 
child, trembling ; '' still, there are a good many 
things I would have liked to have asked her." 
— '' Tell me what they are, at once," growled 
Simon. " I should have asked her about my 
mother, and my sister, and my aunt. It is so 
long since I saw them !" — " Bah ! leave your 
family alone. It was a much longer time that 
they were tyrannizing over us. The best thing 
for you is to forget them, and, at any rate, not 
to pester me about them." The prince did not 
say a word in answer. 

♦^n the 6th of September, the commissaries 
on duty informed Simon that Toulon had, on 
the 28th of August, opened its port to the En- 
glish, and had proclaimed Louis XYII. king. 
One of these commissaries was named Binet, 
a tavern-keeper. He wanted to see the prince. 
On entering his room he cried out, '' Show us 
the King of Toulon!" — ''You mean the King 
of Montbrison," answered Simon. "No; the 
King of Toulon."—" The King of La Vendee !" 
exclaimed one of the municipal officers. " Cit- 
izens," said Simon, " at any rate, he will never 
be King of Paris." The child's face seemed to 
brighten up for a moment with a ray of hope, 
I 



130 The Bourbon Prince. 

when he overheard them talking about the 
events at Toulon, but he immediately blushed, 
as if ashamed of his boldness. 

His master ordered him to go and sit at the 
foot of his bed until further orders. After the de- 
parture of the commissaries, who had amused 
themselves with making sport of the sad condi- 
tion of the prince, Simon kept walking up and 
down in the apartment, talking to his wife about 
the news from Toulon, and indulging in a frenzy 
of revolutionary feeling. The child remained 
silent, being frightened by the excited manner 
of his master, who said that if " the Yendeans 
should ever reach Paris, he would strangle the 
young whelp." Simon took hold of him by the 
ear, and drew him into the middle of the room. 
He then said, " Capet, if the Vendeans should 
rescue you, what would you do to me ?" — " 1 
would pardon you," answered the child. 
K On Saturday, the 21st of September, Hebert 
presented himself at the tower, in company 
with other municipal officers. They came to 
announce a new decree, insisting upon the 
closer confinement of the prisoners. Hebert had 
a long interview with Simon. On leaving, he 
cast a look upon the child, without speaking to 
him, and took leave of his jailer, repeating this 
word — Shortly ! 



Tallow versus Wax. 131 

After the visit of Hebert, the treatment of 
the prisoners of the Temple was rendered more 
severe and cruel. The princesses were forced 
to sweep their own rooms. Their door was not 
allowed to be opened, except to receive their 
food. They were not allowed to see a human 
face or hear a human voice. The council re- 
solved that, from the 22d of September, 1793, 
"considering that the strictest economy was 
necessary to be observed," no pastry or fowls 
of any kind should be allowed the prison- 
ers ; that they should have only one article of 
food for breakfast ; that for their dinner they 
should have nothing but soup, bouilli, and one 
other dish ; that they should no longer burn any 
wax candles ; that no silver or china-ware should 
be used, but only tin and earthen- ware vessels. 
These resolutions were fully carried out, and 
their food was, accordingly, of the coarsest 
kind. Horse-cloths were given them in place 
of sheets, tallow instead of wax candles, tin for 
silver-ware, and crockery for china. 

Simon, however, was allowed a good deal of 
latitude in regard to the diet and treatment of 
his little prisoner. He, accordingly, acted ac- 
cording to his caprice, or what would, as he 
supposed, best answer his intentions toward the 
prince. Sometimes he would nearly starve 



132 The Bourbon Prince. 

him, and give him nothing but a little water to 
drink ; at others, he would cram him with 
food, and make him drink wine to excess, '^e 
would, with cruel ingenuity, alternate excess 
with starvation, abstinence with drunkenness. 
Simon continued to do his utmost to corrupt 
the heart, degrade the intellect, and weaken 
the body of the child. 

//The prince had now become, in consequence 
of this treatment, much changed. His health 
was destroyed — the elasticity of childhood gone. 
He was spiritless, feeble, and inanimate. He 
still thought of his mother with tenderness, and 
had a reverence for her name. Simon one day 
spoke of her by some insulting epithet, and in- 
sisted upon her child doing the same. The 
prince allowed himself to be beaten without 
saying a word. 

/^The trial of the queen — who was in harsh con- 
finement in the Conciergerie, suffering the in- 
tensest agony in consequence of her separation 
from her children — was approaching. A serious 
difficulty was the want of testimony against 
Marie Antoinette, and it was thus that the trial 
was so long deferred. Simon was relied upon 
to supply the deficiency. He now sent word 
that the little Capet was ready to answer all 
questions proposed to him for the sake of jus- 



( 



Forced to bear false Witness. 133 

tice. The next day, the mayor and the solicitor 
of the commune repaired to the tower. Every 
thing was in readiness. Simon had plied his 
pupil with wine and brandy. The tyrant, with 
his cruel eye and raised hand, stood by to com- 
mand and threaten. The child, stupefied with 
drink, with his eyes half closed, was cowering, 
yielding, and obedient. HJertain questions in- 
culpating his mother were answered by the 
child as his merciless inquisitors willed. The 
prince was then forced to affix his signature, 
which he did, with a trembling hand, supported 
by the cruel grasp of Simon, to a paper which 
accused the queen of crimes which even vice 
would blush to name in the presence of child- 
hood I 

/'it was thought necessary to strengthen this 
testimony by additional evidence. The commis- 
saries accordingly sent for the princess. Simon, 
with the young prince under his charge, met 
Maria Theresa at the foot of the stairs. Brother 
and sister rushed into each other's arms : they 
were at once cruelly separated. His sister was 
forced to submit to the same questions as her 
brother, and in his presence. She firmly de- 
nied the charges against her mother ; her mod- 
esty blushed at the unchaste revelations of the 
false accusation; and her filial regard for a 



134 The Bourbon Prince. 

mother's honor was aroused to indignation. " It 
is an infamy .'" she exclaimed. 
i^n the 16th of October, 1793, Marie Antoi- 
nette was conducted to the scaffold. " Be 
quick!" said the queen — these were her last 
words — and, bending her head, she received 
the fatal blow of the guillotine. 



. ChapterVIIT. 

// 

" ri^HE prisoners in the Temple were ignorant 

-^ of the execution of the queen. The offi- 
cers and attendants in the tower had the dis- 
cretion not to say a word about it. Simon knew 
of it, but was silent. He was, however, igno- 
rant of the precise day. Hearing a noise, which 
seemed to indicate an unusual excitement in 
the city, he took his wife and the prince out 
upon the platform to see what was going on. 
The excitement in the streets was in conse- 
quence of some confusion — no unusual thing in 
the days of Terror — in the identity of some in- 
tended victims of the guillotine. Two persons 
were being borne to execution, instead of two 
others of the same name. At night, when the 
prince was asleep, Simon began talking to his 
wife of the occurrence of the day. "At any 
rate," said he, "when the queen goes to the 
guillotine, there wdll be no mistake — no one 
will take her place. There are no two of her 
name and appearance." — "Oh, she will never 
go to the guillotine !" answered his wife. " Why 
not?" — "Why, because she is beautiful ; and 



136 The Bourbon Prince. 

she knows how to talk, and will gain over the 
judges." — " Justice is incorruptible !" gravely 
replied the dogmatic Simon. 

The next day they were out together on the 
tower, and, as they heard a great noise made 
by the troops returning to their quarters, Simon 
said to his wife, " I should not be surprised if 
all this racket has been on account of her whom 
we were talking about last night." — " No, no, 
I am sure you are mistaken," said Mistress 
Simon; ''they would not make such a fuss 
about her." A wager was then laid between 
them on the blood of Marie Antoinette ; the 
loser was to pay for the brandy for their even- 
ing's enjoyment. The commissioners soon aft- 
er came out upon the platform. Simon learned 
from them that he was right, and said to his 
wife, "You've lost your bet."— " What bet?" 
the royal prince innocently asked. " The bet 
don't concern you ; but, if you behave yourself, 
you shall have your share." And, in fact, the 
son of Marie Antoinette drank of that brandy 
with which his jailers made merry on the occa- 
sion of the death of his mother. 

Simon's wife, becoming anxious for the health 
and the happiness of her husband — the jailer, 
in his devotion to his duties, being in as close 
confinement as his little prisoner — made suffi- 



/ 



GrRATITUDE. 137 

cient interest to have a billiard-table allowed 
him. This billiard was the source of some rec- 
reation to the young prince, as it was of addi- 
tional insult. One of the commissioners, Barelle 
by name, a man of mild, inoffensive character, 
took great pleasure in the company of the child. 
His companions, who observed the interest his 
good nature took in the happiness of the prince, 
used to say, whenever he arrived at the Tem- 
ple, " Gro, Barelle, and see your little friend." 
He was always pleased to do so. The child, 
sensible of the marks of kindness he was so 
little used to receive, took a great liking to 
Barelle. It was through his intervention that 
he was permitted to go occasionally into the 
billiard-room, where the Dauphin sometimes 
met the little daughter of the washer- woman of 
the Temple, and she, the washer- woman's daugh- 
ter, and the little king would play billiards to- 
gether. 

One day the prince was allowed by Simon to 
put aside a chicken for Barelle, who, he thought, 
would come about that time. He was detained, 
however, and did not arrive until a day or two 
afterward. As soon, however, as he entered, 
the child ran up to him with the chicken. Ba- 
relle made some objections to taking it. Si- 
mon, who was present, said to the municipal 



138 The Bourbon Prince. 

officer, " Take it, he has been keeping it for you 
for two whole days." The prince then wrapped 
it in a sheet of paper, and Barelle took it and 
put it into his pocket, saying to the son of Louis 
XVI., " I wish, my poor little fellow, I could 
carry you off in my other pocket." 

His signature to another paper inculpating 
his aunt was extorted from the prince. Si- 
mon had stated that ''the child was eager to 
make his declaration to the members of the 
council." Tortured and stupefied by his jailers, 
the miserable child was quite ignorant of what 
he did. 

Worried by constant irritations, and suffering 
from ill treatment, the prince had become visi- 
bly changed for the worse. His expression, 
formerly so radiant with happiness, was sad ; 
his complexion, so fresh and rose-colored, had 
become yellow ; the outline of his face seemed 
altered ; his legs had become elongated beyond 
the usual proportions, and his back was bent ; 
and he passed night after night without sleep. 
Finding that every thing he did or said were 
subjects of inquiry, or the cause of blame and 
punishment, he became reserved and silent ; he 
hardly dared to say yes or no to the simplest 
question. 

The suffering of the child gained some sym- 



A Canary Decoree. 139 

pathy, and inspired several of the attendants in 
the tower with pity. In the Temple, among 
the articles of furniture, there was an ingenious 
toy, a bird in a cage, which, by a piece of mech- 
anism, could be made to beat its wings, turn 
its head, move its tail, and, what was still more 
wonderful, sing the Kingh March. Simon was 
induced to have this repaired and placed in the 
Dauphin's room. The child was delighted with 
it, thinking it to be a real Canary bird. When 
he found out that it was a piece of mechanism, 
he still admired the ingenious toy ; but he soon 
grew tired of it. Monnier, the good-natured 
turnkey, then obtained a supply of live Canaries 
for the prince. The child was in raptures of 
delight when he saw the little birds hopping 
about his room. " Ah ! these are real birds," 
exclaimed he. One of them was tamer than 
all the rest, and would come and perch upon 
the prince's shoulder, or take its food out of his 
mouth. The child was very happy with, and 
proud of his little bird, and had tied a red rib- 
bon to one of its legs, and was playing with his 
Canary the whole time. This happiness, how- 
over, did not last long. The commissaries, pay- 
ing him a visit of inspection, the bird set up a 
lively tune. " What's that ?" said one of them ; 
" a bird, with a red ribbon, like a decoration ! 



140 The Bourbon Prince. 

a bird ofprivileg-e I This looks like aristocracy, 
and can't be allowed." And, as he spoke, he 
rudely tore the ribbon from the bird's leg. A 
report was made of this visit, in which the Ca- 
nary bird was denounced, and the prince was 
accordingly deprived of his cheerful companion. 
This affair was spoken of in the Temple as the 
Conspiracy of the Canaries. 

Simon never intermitted his insults and bad 
treatment of his prisoner. On one occasion, he 
was taking a foot-bath, and the prince, having 
been ordered to heat the towels at the fire, 
dropped one, which was burned in consequence. 
Simon was outrageous, and cried after him with 
terrible oaths and curses. A few moments 
afterward, the child went to wipe the feet of 
Simon, and, after he had done so, the brutal 
fellow kicked him with the foot he had just 
wiped. 

Simon and his wife began to feel the effect 
of their close confinement to their duties in the 
Temple. They suffered in mind and body. Si- 
mon became more and more irritable and vio- 
lent, and although he did not for a moment 
abate, nor seem tired of his cruelty, he desired 
some diversion. He entreated permission to 
walk out occasionally into the courts and gar- 
dens of the Temple, but was refused. He ask- 



The good Physician. 141 

ed leave to be present on the occasion of the 
fete in Paris, to celebrate the taking of Toulon, 
but was rudely denied. His wife was finally 
taken ill, from the effects of her close confine- 
ment. She sent for a medical attendant. A 
M. Naudin, a surgeon of Paris, came to prescribe 
for her. One day, as he was coming out of 
Mistress Simon's room, where he had been to 
pay a professional visit, he passed through the 
apartment where Simon and his drunken com- 
panions were drinking at a table, while the royal 
infant was at their side, and who, being pressed 
to sing some impious songs, resolutely refused. 
Simon, seeing M. Naudin, and determined to 
show the doctor the power of his authority, in- 
sisted, with violence, upon the prince obeying 
his command. The child still refused, when 
Simon, jumping up and seizing him by the hair, 
said, " Cursed little viper ! I'll beat out your 
brains against the wall." M. Naudin came to 
the rescue of the prince, and, snatching him 
away, exclaimed, indignantly, "Yillain! what 
are you doing?" Struck dumb by the words 
, of the doctor, he did not say a word. M. Nau- 
din returned next day to visit his patient. The 
little prisoner, as soon as he saw him, caught 
him by the hand, and presented him with a 
couple of pears that had been given him the 



142 The Bourbon Prince. 

evening before as a treat, and said, with much 
emotion, '' Yesterday, you took an interest in 
me ; I thank you very much. Please accept 
these. I wish I could better express my grat- 
itude !" The old gentleman took the hand of 
the child and pressed it warmly ; he was too 
much affected to say a word. 

The prince, though much demoralized, and 
weakened in body and intellect, did not forget 
his mother's counsels, and, even at this time, 
would occasionally join his hands, and utter, 
when he thought himself alone, a prayer to 
G-od. He would sometimes, while asleep, get 
upon his knees and seem to be praying. One 
night Simon caught a glance at him in this 
position. He called his wife to look at the lit- 
tle superstitious fool offering up a prayer in his 
sleep. He then took a pail of water and doused 
it all over him. The child awoke, and, without 
uttering a cry, threw himself down in his bed, 
chilled with cold and dripping with the water. 
G-etting completely awake, he at last arose and 
sat at the head of his bed, upon the pillow 
where it was dry. Simon went and caught, 
hold of him, and, shaking him violently, ex- 
claimed, " I'll teach you, young villain, to be 
muttering your pater-nosters, and getting up at 
night to say your prayers like a monk." The 
child remaining where he was, and not saying 



I 



Last Curse of Simon. 143 

any thing, Simon was terribly angered, and, 
seizing his heavy shoe, struck him upon the 
face. The child, putting up his two little hands 
to protect himself, said, " What have I ever done 
to you, that you should want to kill me ?" — 
" Kill you, you whelp, as if I ever wanted to do 
so ; if I did, one wring of the neck would settle 
you at once I" He then took hold of him and 
threw him at full length upon his bed, where 
he was forced to lie all night in the cold and 
wet. 

From this time the child remained complete- 
ly prostrated. He never looked up again, but 
hung his head always, and seemed completely 
indifferent to all that passed. 

On the 19th of January, 1794, there was 
quite a bustle in the tower ; it was Simon and 
his wife taking leave of the attendants in the 
Temple. Mistress Simon took leave of the 
prince with these words : " Capet, I don't know 
when I shall see you again." Simon himself 
exclaimed, " Oh, the little villain ! he is not yet 
quite crushed, but he will never escape now, 
even if all the priests in the world should come 
to his aid." At the same moment, he pressed 
his heavy hands with great force upon the 
child's head, until it bent down upon his breast ; 
and the royal prince, silent, with downcast eyes, 
thus received the last curse of liispitiieiia jailor. 



Chapter IX. 

TT was decided by the government that there 
-*- should be no successor appointed to Simon. 
As the prince had no jailer now^ it was thought 
necessary, for better security^ to confine him to 
a single room. The child was accordingly im- 
prisoned in the inner chamber, which had been 
that of the attendant, Clery, and of Simon's 
wife when she was ill. The door which com- 
municated with the ante-chamber was cut off, 
halfway up, fastened with screws and nails, 
and barred with iron from top to bottom. To 
the middle of the door was fastened a shelf, 
which was connected with an iron wicket, with 
movable bars, closed by an enormous padlock. 
It was through this wicket that the young prince 
received his food ; and on the shelf he deposited 
whatever was to be carried away. His cham- 
ber was of vast size. He — thanks to the gen- 
erosity of the government ! — had a large apart- 
ment to walk about in, bread to eat, water to 
drink, and clothes to put on ! It is true, he had 
no fire, nor any light. His room was only heat- 
ed by a stove-pipe, which passed from another 






Solitary Confinement. 145 

apartment into his, and his only light came 
from a lamp hung up opposite to the bars of 
his cell. It was through these bars, too, that 
the stove-pipe passed. The royal orphan, by 
chance or cruel design, was thrust into this 
prison on the anniversary of his father's execu- 
tion, the 21st of January, 1794. 

This change and this solitude had no alarms 
for him. In truth, he seemed at first to be 
happy in being left to himself, and in being re- 
moved from the presence of those whose every 
thought and act toward him were conceived in 
insult and executed in violence. Who can form 
any idea of what passed in the mind and heart 
of the young prince during the six months that 
he was alone, a solitary captive in his dark dun- 
geon. He, during that long solitude, never 
breathed the air of heaven, hardly saw the 
light of day, except through his iron bars. 
The poor victim never even beheld the hand 
which doled out to him his scanty food, nor 
the careless person whose duty it was to light 
the stove, and who often left him without any 
fire, to tremble in the cold, or almost suffocated 
him with smoke. He heard no noise but the 
harsh turning of the locks, except at night, when 
he was told by a rude voice that it was time for 
him to go to bed. 

K 



146 The Bou.rbon Prince. 

He was obliged to sweep his room himself, if 
he wished to keep it clean ; but he was not long 
able, in consequence of increased weakness, to 
continue this labor. Having nothing to do — no 
amusement, no occupation, no human voice to 
listen to, who can measure the length of those 
miserable days ! 

Endless seemed the tedious days, endless the 
wakeful nights ; not a word, however, not a 
complaint, issued from that dark prison. 

It having been pretended by the dominant 
party in the Converution that Hebert had form- 
ed a plot with the Countess of Rochechoart for 
the escape of the royal children from the tower, 
and that the former had received for his con- 
currence a million of money, Hebert was ac- 
cused before the tribune of the Convention. 
" An attempt had been made," said his accuser, 
" to send a letter, and fifty Louis in gold, to the 
Capet children, with the intention of aiding 
them in their escape. The last hour of the 
criminals has sounded. Let the conspirators 
perish !" Hebert was guillotined. 

The severity and the watchfulness over the 
prisoners in the Temple were increased. Mad- 
am Elizabeth was never able to receive any in- 
telligence of her nephew, and Maria Theresa 
never asked about her brother without receiv- 
ing in answer an insult. 



Interview with Robespierre. 147 

Madam Elizabeth was the next victim of the 
royal family, and died on the scaffold, in pious 
resignation to her fate, the 10th of May, 1794. 

While her aunt was receiving the fatal blow 
of the guillotine, the young princess, her niece, 
asked of the municipal officers what had be- 
come of her. She was answered that she had 
gone out for a walk. The princess begged that 
she might be permitted to join her mother (for 
she was ignorant of the fate of Marie Antoi- 
nette), since she was separated from her aunt. 
They promised to see about it. 
HJn the next day Robespierre paid the prin- 
cess a visit. She did not speak a word to him. 
She merely handed him a paper, upon which 
she had written as follows : 

'' My brother is ill. I have written to the 
Convention for permission to attend him. The 
Convention have given me no answer. I reit- 
erate my request." 

When she had handed over this paper, she 
turned away her head and resumed her read- 
ing. 

Let us return to the prince. His guards 
cared little as to his condition, provided he was 
safe in their keeping, dead or alive. The mu- 
nicipal officers did not trouble themselves as to 
whether he had enough to eat or not, or wheth- 



148 The Bourbon Prince. 

er he slept, or as to the state of his health. 
They were alone careful to prevent his escape. 
Every evening they opened the room which 
communicated with that of the prince, and, 
looking through the grating to see what he was 
about, bawled out to him to go and lie down. 
Their prisoner would then crawl into his bed, 
and the guards retire. When fresh municipal 
officers were ordered to the tower, they fre- 
quently did not arrive until midnight. They 
then, at that late hour, guided by a turnkey, 
would mount together to the ivhelp^s kennel. 
It was all the same to them whether he was 
awake or asleep. A pitiless voice would bawl 
out to him, to discover whether he had been 
carried off or not. Sometimes he would not 
answer immediately, having been asleep, then 
one of them would shake the iron wicket and 
cry out, with a loud voice, '' Capet ! Capet ! are 
you asleep? Where are you, then? G-et up, 
you young viper !" The child would wake with 
a start, get out of his bed all in a tremble, and 
reply, in a sweet voice, '' Here I am, citizen ; 
here I am. What do you want of me ?" — " To 
see you," replied the Cerberus, moving his lan- 
tern that he might have a better light. ' * That's 
right ! Gro to bed, you young villain !" 

A few hours afterward, other municipal offi- 



Filth and Misery. 149 

cers, who had arrived still later, would again 
disturb the child, make him get up, and keep 
him standing on the damp floor, and trembling 
with cold, while they worried him with ques- 
tions and insulting remarks. 

At last the prince firmly resolved neither to 
ask nor answer a question. Many days, many 
weeks, many months passed on in this way. 
The want of air, neglect, and solitary confine- 
ment had weakened his body and mind. His 
hands could now hardly lift the crockery plate 
which held his food, and his jug of water, which 
was taken to him every day and put upon the 
shelf of the wicket by a kitchen servant, who 
was forbidden to speak a word to the prisoner. 

For some time the child had ceased to sweep 
his room. He no longer attempted to move the 
straw mattress of his bed — his strength was not 
sufficient. He could not change his sheets, 
which were dirty, and his coverlet was all in 
holes. He had no clean linen, and was unable 
to have his clothes, which were all in tatters, 
repaired ; nor could he wash or clean himself. 
Soon he gave up taking off his torn trowsers, 
and his revolutionary jacket, all in rags. He 
was now hardly able to move, in consequence 
of his excessive feebleness. Sometimes he 
would cast a frightened glance at the iron wick- 



150 The Bourbon Prince. 

et, half anxious and half afraid to hear a hu- 
man voice. He now laid down on his bed with- 
out undressing, and slept for the most of the 
day, preparing himself for his sleepless nights, 
made wakeful by the constant intrusion of his 
cruel and watchful guards. 

kit was hoped, doubtless, by his enemies, that 
this suffering of the prince would end in idiotcy 
or madness ; but his mind was too strong to 
yield readily to this pressure of cruelty and sad- 
ness. He became weaker and weaker, so that 
he could hardly leave his bed and find his way 
to his earthen jug of water, which a constant 
thirst made him long for with eagerness. He 
had not the strength now to complain. Pleas- 
ure and pain, prayers and despair, hope and fear 
were all over. All that was left was a body 
fast decaying, and a mind becoming dulled by 
want of exercise and sympathy. He allowed 
the remains of his food to lie about on the floor 
or on his bed, and his room was infested with 
rats, mice, spiders, and all kinds of vermin. 
"All is alive in that chamber I" said the kitchen 
servant one day, as he came for the prince's 
plate and jug, and cast a hurried look into the 
frightful place. It was with great difficulty 
now that he could be aroused by his jailers, in 
spite of their loud commands and cruel threats. 



i 



Doctor Le Monnier. 151 

It began to be known by the world that the 
Dauphin was suffering greatly, and becoming 
every day weaker, more dejected, and prostrate. 
No one knew the exact condition of the royal 
prince, but it was generally supposed that he 
was ill and unhappy. Monsieur Le Monnier,/^ 
who had been physician to Louis XVI., hearing 
of these rumors, was anxious to visit the royal 
child and bestow upon him his professional 
care. He asked permission to do so, but his 
benevolent request was flatly refused. This 
courageous, skillful, and kind physician might 
have restored the prince to health ; but this, 
perhaps, would have defeated the intentions of 
the government. 



Chapter X. 

T^ ARRAS, who was one of the leaders of the 
-'-^ faction which had triumphed over Robe- 
spierre, had been appointed commander-in-chief 
of the forces, and, in accordance with the duties 
of his new office, visited, with his staff, all the 
military posts of Paris, to inspect them, and to 
renew the oath, on the part of the troops, of al- 
legiance to the National Convention. 

At six o'clock on the morning of the 28th of 
July, 1794, Barras arrived at the Temple. He 
doubled the guard ; he ordered the municipal 
officers to remain there constantly, and to exer- 
cise the utmost watchfulness. 

In the company of Barras, on this occasion, 
there was a person by the name of Laurent, a 
member of the Revolutionary Committee of the 
section of the Temple. He was invited to an 
interview by Barras, and was told by him that, 
on his nomination, he had been appointed guard- 
ian of the children in the Temple. 

Laurent was a native of St. Domingo, where 
he had some property. He was a warm parti- 
san of the republic. He was small in stature, 



Laurent, the new Guardian. 158 

of about thirty-five years of age, and a single 
man. He lived with his mother and his two 
sisters, whom he cherished with great affection. 
He had quite a passion for flowers, and divided 
his happiness between his flower-beds and his 
family. He was a man of considerable intellect, 
well educated, and refined in his manners. He 
was a thorough Democrat, and an uncompro- 
mising partisan. 

At the moment of Barras completing his mili- 
tary survey of Paris, Robespierre and his crew, 
among whom was Simon, were being dragged 
in a cart to the guillotine, amid the exclama- 
tions of joy and the curses of the populace of 
Paris. Simon was dressed in his republican 
jacket, the same he used to wear in the Tem- 
ple while tutor to the prince. 

Laurent arrived in the tower in the evening, 
to commence his new functions as guardian of 
the prince. He was kept below for a long time, 
going through the forms necessary upon enter- 
ing upon his office, and conversing with the 
municipal officers, so that it was two o'clock in 
the morning before he was taken to the apart- 
ment of the little Capet. 

Laurent had heard generally of how the 
prince had been treated, but had not the re- 
motest idea of the state in which he found him. 



154 The Bourbon Prince. 

Great was his surprise when, on his arrival at 
the door, he became almost poisoned with an 
infected atmosphere that came through the 
iron bars of the child's room ; and still greater 
his alarm when one of the municipal officers, 
casting a glance through the iron wicket into 
the darkness of the dungeon, called out loudly, 
'' Capet," and no Capet answered. After re- 
peated calls, a feeble yes was finally heard ; 
but not a stir or the least movement followed. 
No threats nor noise could make the child get 
up, and they could only see through the iron 
bars, by the dim light of the lantern, some- 
thing like a living object crouched upon the 
bed. 

/taurent, startled by what he had witness- 
ed, felt at once the responsibility of his po- 
sition. He therefore asked of the Committee 
of Public Safety an official inquiry into the 
present condition of the prisoner. 

This request was granted ; and, accordingly, 
several members of the Committee of Public 
Safety, accompanied by some municipal offi- 
cers, repaired, on the 31st of July, 1794, to the 
tower, to inquire into the state of the prince. 
On their arrival at the door of the child's room, 
they called to him, and, receiving no answer, 
at once ordered the room to be broken open. 



i 



The Dungeon Opened. 155 

The workman, by some few vigorous blows, 
soon opened the iron bars of the wicket suffi- 
ciently to see the child, and, observing him, 
asked why he did not answer ; but the poor 
lad did not utter a word. The door was now 
removed, and the visitors entered. A horrible 
sight presented itself to their view. In a dark 
room, the atmosphere of which was polluted 
with an odor of death and corruption, upon a 
filthy bed, there laid a child of nine years of 
age, only half covered with some scraps of dirty 
linen and a pair of ragged trowsers, motionless, 
with his back crooked, and his face wan and 
sorrow stricken, without that expression of 
bright intelligence which had once lighted it 
up. His delicate features exhibited a look of 
mournful apathy, dullness, and insensibility. 
His lips were colorless, his cheeks hollow, and 
his complexion of a sickly, greenish hue. His 
large eyes, made more prominent by his emaci- 
ation, had lost their brilliancy, and their former 
bright blue color had darkened into a sad, 
leaden tint. His head and neck were eaten 
up with running sores ; his legs were enor- 
mously elongated in proportion to his small, 
meagre body ; his wrists and knees were cov- 
ered with black and blue swellings ; the nails 
of his hands and feet had grown long like claws. 



156 The Bourbon Prince. 

He was covered with filth, and overrun with 
vermin. 

The child seemed hardly aware of the open- 
ing of his door or of the entrance of any one. 
Numberless questions were asked him by his 
visitors. He answered none of them. His eyes 
wandered listlessly about or stared vacantly, 
and the expression of his face seemed meaning- 
less. His visitors might well have supposed at 
that time that he was an idiot. One of the com- 
missaries, finding his dinner untouched upon 
the table, asked the child why he had not eaten 
it. At first he did not answer this question ; 
but upon its being repeated often, and asked in 
a gentle manner by an old gray-headed man, 
with a fatherly look, the prince at last replied., 
in a quiet tone, but quite resolutely, " I want 
to die !" These were the only words that could 
be wrung from him on that occasion. The re- 
sult of this visit was some trifling orders from 
the government, which Laurent, in his good- 
nature, took care to turn to the advantage of the 
little prisoner. 

Laurent determined to better the condition 
of the child as far as it was in his power. He 
had at first, however, considerable difficulty, the 
municipal officers and attendants being fearful 
of being denounced for any act of indulgence 



Astonished by Kindness. 157 

toward the young prince. -Humanity in those 
times was a crime, and inhumanity a virtue. 
The kitchen servant was prevailed upon, with 
some difficulty, to bring some warm water to 
wash the poor child's sores, and it was some 
time before the commissaries would give their 
consent. 

The barred door and the wicket were never 
put up again. The room was arranged as it 
was in Simon's time ; windows were opened into 
it, so that the air and light might enter, and the 
whole apartment was purified. In the mean 
time, the prince was removed to the room which 
his father, the king, had occupied. Laurent had 
a comfortable bed brought for him, ordered him 
some clean linen and a bath, and his hair to be 
cut and combed. The sores upon his head and 
neck required to be attended to, and Laurent 
sent for one of the municipal officers, who was 
a surgeon, to dress them. A tailor also was 
sent for, who supplied him with a complete suit 
of new clothes — a pair of pantaloons, a waist- 
coat, and a sailor's jacket, of tolerably fine slate- 
colored cloth. 

The miserable child was quite puzzled by 
these marks of kindness. He received them 
at first with an air of stupid astonishment, but 
in a short time began to appreciate them, feel 



158 The Bourbon Prince. 

grateful, and express his gratitude. " Why," 
said he, "do you take this care of me?" and 
Laurent answering kindly, the prince was deep- 
ly affected. A tear rolled down his cheek, which 
he tried to conceal, and he exclaimed, " But I 
thought you did not care for me." 

The sores on the Dauphin's head and neck 
were extremely painful, and when they were 
dressed he could hardly avoid crying out ; but 
whenever he did so he seemed to be angry with 
himself. One day that he had suffered a good 
deal, and was unable to repress a cry, he re- 
called the surgeon, who was leaving, and said 
to him, in a gentle voice, " Thank you, sir, 
thank you ; pardon me, sir !" giving the word 
pardon a particular emphasis. 

The name Capet, as applied to the prince, in 
the first place, by Simon, and then adopted by 
all in the tower, was done away with by Lau- 
rent, and the prince was afterward always call- 
ed Monsieur Charles. Some, however, never 
gave him the title " Monsieur," but called him 
simply Charles. 

Although, since the death of Robespierre, the 
stifling atmosphere of the dark days of terror 
had somewhat cleared away, and mankind 
breathed with more freedom, still suspicion 
and distrust lurked about, and the guillotine 



Still a Bugbear. 159 

occasionally smote a victim. Spies and inform- 
ers were busy in the dark, crawling and twin- 
ing like serpents about France, and stifling all 
family intimacy and social freedom. 

The little prince was still a bugbear to the 
Convention, and there was, consequently, no in- 
termission, on their part, to the strictest watch- 
fulness and most cruel severity toward the 
young prisoner. Laurent, however, had taken 
quite a fancy to the lad, and always treated 
him with the greatest kindness, and felt for 
him, if not affection, at least great pity. Con- 
sequently, the prince's condition was, as far as 
possible, improved. Laurent regretted that he 
was obliged, by the orders of the government, 
to leave him, as before, in his solitary chamber ; 
but he took every occasion to relieve that soli- 
tude, for he knew how much a child of the 
prince's tender years must suffer by being 
alone, how necessary companionship was to the 
healthy condition of his body and mind. Grrown 
persons are mutually dependent, and look natu- 
rally for each other's countenance and support. 
Children are infinitely more so. Their minds 
require to be developed by the encouragement 
of example, and their souls warmed into life by 
human sympathy. A man in solitude has a 
stock of past memories to fall back upon. His 



160 The Bourbon Prince. 

mind may strengthen and grow wise, and his 
heart become pm*er and more w^holesome, in sol- 
itary reflection. A child, having every thing in 
expectation, looking for support from others, and 
dependent upon father and mother for his daily 
thoughts, as for his daily bread — a poor, weak 
tendril, that twines affectionately about the par- 
ent plant, having no roots to hold strongly to the 
depths of the past, nor lofty branches, to stretch 
out firmly heavenward to enjoy and be invigo- 
rated by the air of heaven — must, when cut off 
and left alone, wither, corrupt, and die. 

Laurent was aware how much human sym- 
pathy and encouragement were necessary to the 
poor boy. He had not, however, the right to 
visit the prince except at the hours of his meals. 
He, nevertheless, got permission to take him out 
occasionally upon the tower, Laurent having 
represented to the municipal officers how nec- 
essary it was for the health of the child. The 
first time this favor was granted was in the aft- 
ernoon, when his kind guardian took him by 
the arm and led him out on the platform of the 
tower. The day was closing magnificently; 
the sun was setting, calm and beautiful ; the 
nightingale was piping his good-night on a tree 
in the garden of the Temple ; the busy hum 
oi the city could be easily heard ; the carriages 



His Mother, Alas! 161 

rolled noisily in the streets ; the water-carriers, 
and venders of papers and small wares, raised 
their lively cries ; there was heard the voices of 
happy and independent men, in the full activity 
and enjoyment of honest labor, the whistling 
of the boys, as they passed, here and there, 
through the streets, or stopped joyfully at the 
corners to exchange their sous for a cake ; there 
was all the life and the freedom of the city send- 
ing up its cheerful song, tuned by the strong 
voice of health, and enlivened by the spirit of 
liberty. But all this life, this noise, this hap- 
piness, and this freedom gave less pleasure than 
pain to the captive. However, at first, the little 
prince breathed the air eagerly, which seemed 
to warm his torpid body into new life. He was 
obliged, however, to return almost immediately; 
the light of day was too bright for his weakened 
eyes, and the pure air too strong for his feeble 
lungs. As the child was going down, he stop- 
ped before the door on the third story, which 
had been Marie Antoinette's apartment, and, 
pressing Laurent's arm, he leaned against the 
wall and looked, with a sorrowful gaze, upon 
that door. He thought, doubtless, that it still 
closed upon his mother. 

Upon reaching his room, he found his supper 
spread out before him, but he barely touched 
L 



162 The Bourbon Prince. 

it. He remained silent, as usual ; but he seemed 
to cast an inquiring look upon his guardian, who 
soon left him to the weariness of his solitude. 

There was no improvement allowed in the 
food of the prince. He still had the constant 
dish of beans and theplateof boiled beef served 
up in rude earthen- ware. 

In spite of the kindness and care of Laurent, 
the young prince remained weak and almost 
speechless. Upon looking at him, there could 
be observed about his eyes and his mouth a cer- 
tain languid, though intelligent expression. 

On the next occasion that Laurent took the 
prince out upon the tower, a regiment was pass- 
ing with its band. The child did not seem to 
understand what the music meant. With one 
hand he caught hold of the arm of his guardian, 
and he lifted the other to signify to Laurent to 
listen. As the drums ceased beating, and the 
rest of the band played a cheerful tune, the 
child started, and his face brightened and clear- 
ed up. 

Another time, while they were out upon the 
tower, the child was observed to be stooping 
down and looking intently upon the platform. 
His companion did not know at first what he 
was about ; but, observing more closely, he dis- 
covered that the little prince was looking at 



The Prisoner's Bouquet. 163 

some little starved yellow flowers, which hardly 
grew ill the interstices of the stone- work. The 
prince gathered and arranged them in a bouquet. 
On going down the steps to reach his room, he 
paused, as he had done before, by the door of 
his mother's room. "You are mistaken in the 
door," exclaimed the commissary, who was be- 
hind him. "I am not mistaken," quietly an- 
swered the child. These were the only words 
that escaped his lips on that day. His flowers 
he had dropped at the door when he stopped. 
The poor child knew that his father no longer 
lived ; but his mother, his sister, and his aunt, 
what had become of them? He might still 
think they were near him. 

Laurent, wearied with the monotony of his 
duties, his close confinement to the tower, and 
pained by the sad nature of his ofl^ice, sought 
relief, and requested from the Committee of 
Public Safety the assistance of a colleague, 
which was granted him. 



Chapter XI. 

piITIZEN GOMIN was appointed the col- 
^-^ league of Laurent ; he was unwilling to 
accept of the place, but was told that he had 
no right to refuse, and must immediately repair 
to his post. 

Gromin was a man of thirty-seven years of 
age ; was the son of an upholsterer, and had 
the character of a mild, kind-hearted man. He 
was puzzled at first to find out how he came to 
be appointed to the post, as he had no sympa- 
thy with the excited revolutionists of the times. 
He afterward learned that it was through the 
mediation of the Marquis De Fenouil, who knew 
him intimately, and who, being engaged in cer- 
tain so-called patriotic intrigues, professedly for 
the interest of the Revolution, but in reality 
for that of the royal party, was anxious to have 
G-omin placed in charge of the royal prisoners. 

Gromin was ordered to the Temple, on Sun- 
day, the 9th of November, 1794. He was ac- 
companied by an agent of the government, who 
kept perfectly silent during the whole route. 
He presented his commission, immediately on 



GrOMIN. 165 

his arrival, to the officer on duty, was duly reg- 
istered, and introduced to his colleague, Laurent. 
It was at night. The two guardians ascended 
immediately to pay a visit to the prisoners. 
When they reached the second story of the tow- 
er, Laurent asked G-omin if he had ever seen 
the prince. " I have never seen him," answer- 
ed Gomin. " Then," replied Laurent, " it will 
he some time hefore he will speak to you." 
Having passed through the ante-chamber, they 
entered the inner room, where the prince was 
lying, on an iron bed in the corner. The child, 
with a white night-cap on his head, rose in his 
bed at the noise made by the visitors going in. 
The first sight of him was mournful enough ; 
his pale, leaden complexion, and his languid 
air, showed plainly his long suffering. His face 
was not very thin, and his eye quite bright; 
but his features and his look revealed in their 
sad expression his many sorrows. After a hasty 
glance, his guardians withdrew. 

G-omin took up his quarters with Laurent 
on the ground floor. There were three beds in 
the room, one for each of the guardians, and 
one for the member of the committee, sent by 
each section of Paris, in turn, to serve for the 
period of twenty-four hours as commissary of 
the tower. When this latter officer arrived, 



166 The Bourbon Prince. 

which was always at noon, he received from his 
predecessor the orders of the committee of the 
Convention relative to his duties in guarding 
the prisoners, and especial injunctions not to al- 
low the hrother and sister to see each other or 
walk out at the same time. He was then ac- 
companied by the guardians on a visit to the 
prince and princess in order to recognize them. 

All the keys of the tower were kept in a 
closet in the council-chamber. There were two 
keys to this closet, each one of which was of 
different size ; and one was kept in the pos- 
session of Laurent, and the other in that of Gro- 
min. They therefore were dependent upon each 
other, and the turnkeys upon both. 

Since the death of Louis XVL. the military 
post of the Temple had been composed of one 
hundred and ninety-four men of the National 
Gruard, and fourteen of the Paris Artillery. 

No one could enter or leave the Temple with- 
out a pass signed by the two guardians. Every 
night a bulletin was transmitted to the Com- 
mittee of Public Safety, detailing the events of 
he last twenty-four hours. 

The assistance of Gromin was of great ad- 
vantage to Laurent ; it enabled him to go out 
occasionally to his club, and to visit his family 
and his garden. In other respects, there was 



G-oMiN Astounded. 167 

scarcely any change in the regulations of the 
tower. Every thing remained very much as be- 
fore. The two guardians went up every morn- 
ing together, to pay a visit to the Dauphin. 
Gourlet, a domestic, accompanied them, and 
dressed the prince ; and, while the child was at 
breakfast, Gourlet made the bed and swept the 
room. The breakfast over, and the room made, 
the prince was left alone until two o'clock, when 
his guardians saw him again, and then left him 
until eight in the evening, when he had his sup- 
per and received the last visit for the day, and 
was left to his lonesome solitude until the next 
morning. 

We have seen that G-omin was unwilling to 
accept his office. Now, when he found in what 
a deplorable state the prince was in, and how 
little power he had to relieve him, he would 
have gladly resigned his painful position, but 
was fearful he might be suspected and de- 
nounced. He was quite overcome at the sight 
of the misery and suffering of the prince. Lau- 
rent, however, told him that his condition had 
been far worse when he first saw him. 

Whenever the commissary on duty happen- 
ed to be a more than usually good-natured per- 
son, the guardians were able to get some little 
indulgence for the prisoner. They would tell 



168 The Bourbon Prince. 

him, for example, that it was customary to 
take him out occasionally for a walk upon the 
platform on the tower, and that privilege would 
be granted him. 

Gromin, learning that the child had always 
been fond of flowers, succeeded in having 
brought up into his apartment four little flower- 
pots. The sight of the flowers produced a won- 
derful effect upon the prince. He beheld them 
with great delight, took them in his hands, 
smelledthem again and again, and, after looking 
at them repeatedly, timidly plucked one. G-o- 
min's kindness was appreciated by the child, 
and he gave his guardian a tender glance, full 
of gratitude, and the tears rolled down his 
cheeks. 

One day the commissary on duty was a 
. man by the name of Delbry. His manners 
were rough, his voice harsh ; but, with all his 
apparent rudeness and severity, he was at bot- 
tom a good -hearted fellow. " Why the devil 
do they give these poor wretches such food as 
that?" he exclaimed, with a loud voice. "If 
they were at the Tuileries, it might be well 
enough ; but here, in our power, we ought to be 
kind to them. The nation is generous. Why 
do they board up these windows ? Under the 
reign of equality the sun should shine for all 



Strict Regulation. 169 

alike. They ought to have their share. Why 
shouldn't they see each other, while fraternity 
is the word ?" 

At this last exclamation the prince opened 
his large eyes. " Isn't it so, my boy ?" contin- 
ued he. " You'd like to play with your sister, 
wouldn't you ? I can't see why the nation 
should recollect your origin, when you have 
forgotten it yourself !" Then, turning toward 
Gomin and Laurent, he remarked, " It isn't his 
fault that he is the son of his father. . . . 
He is only to us a poor sufferer and a child ; 
so don't be hard with him. The unfortunate 
belong to humanity, and the country is the 
mother of all her children." 

On this occasion, Gromin, always ready to 
take the benefit of a favorable chance, proposed 
that the lamp which hung up in the room of 
the Dauphin should be lighted at dusk. So 
from this moment the prince always had a 
light, which he greatly desired, at night, and 
of which he had been deprived for a very long 
time. 

The children of Louis XYI. were never al- 
lowed to come together or see each other. The 
regulation on this point was especially strict. 
Since their separation, on the 3d of July, and 
their being confronted together, on the 7th of 



170 The Bourbon Prince. 

October, 1793, the princess had not once seen 
her brother. On the 23d of November, 1794, 
she caught a glance of him, at the moment she 
was entering her room with Laurent, and Gro- 
min was taking the prince, out upon the ter- 
race ; but they were not permitted to embrace, 
or to speak to each other. 

It turned out as Laurent had told Gromin. 
Many days had passed without the child speak- 
ing a word to him. Finally, the prince became 
more accustomed to G-omin, and addressed him, 
one day, in these words, repeating them in a 
gentle voice, and with a very sweet manner, 
" It was you who gave me the flowers. I have 
not forgotten it." 

An interest began to be strongly awakened 
in favor of the young prince. One of the Paris 
journals had the courage to throw out some sug- 
gestions favorable to the prisoner. This aroused 
the fears of the government, and the editors were 
summoned before the Convention and punished. 
The government took this occasion of expressing 
its determination not to abate a jot of its sever- 
ity toward the Capets. It complained that it 
" had been slandered in the statement that in- 
structors had been bestowed upon the children 
in the Temple, who had treated them with a 
kindness almost paternal, in order to secure 



No Danger in Captivity. 171 

their happiness and education." — " No !" said 
the government, " it was a stranger to all 
thoughts of ameliorating the captivity of the 
children of Capet. The Convention knew how 
to cut off the heads of kings, but was ignorant 
of how to educate their children. It would 
take care that no pity should be felt for what 
remained of the race of tyrants — no compas- 
sion expressed for the orphan child." There 
was, as appears from this denunciation of the 
prisoners, and of the natural emotions of hu- 
man nature — this resolution to establish cruel- 
ty and abolish pity — no change to be looked for 
from the successors of Robespierre toward bet- 
tering the condition of the unhappy prison- 
ers. 

The question in regard to the proper disposi- 
tion of the royal prisoners was, however, brought 
up in the Convention, and Cambaceres, who was 
the mouth-piece on the occasion, declared that 
" there would be no danger in keeping the mem- 
bers of the family of Capet in captivity, but a 
great deal in banishing them." The commit- 
tees adopted this view of the government unan- 
imously. Several of the European powers at- 
tempted to negotiate for the liberty of the royal 
children, but without effect. The unmeasured 
language of Spain on the occasion served only 



172 The Bourbon Prince. 

to excite the natural jealousy of France, and 
imbitter its hatred toward the royal family. 

The days in the Temple continued to pass 
as before. An occasional visit of inspection 
from the authorities was the only relief to the 
monotony of the prison life. 

On one occasion, on the arrival of a new com- 
missary, the weather being stormy, the stove 
began to fill the upper stories of the tower with 
smoke. The prince was nearly suffocated in 
consequence ; it was, therefore, proposed to re- 
move him below, which was consented to by 
the commissary. And thus, for the first time 
since his imprisonment, the child was permit- 
ted to leave his prison. He was taken down, 
and passed half the day in what was called 
the council-chamber, and dined with the three 
who had him under charge, his two guardians, 
and the commissary. He evidently was much 
pleased with the change, and the expression of 
his face indicated the joy of his heart. The 
commissary, seeing him apparently so happy, 
remarked to his guardians, " He don't seem so 
ill ; have you been telling me he was suffering 
in order to excite my pity ?" Gromin answer- 
ed, '' The child is not well."—" Well or ill," 
resumed the commissary, " there are plenty of 
children as good as he is who are a great deal 



Monsieur no longer French. 173 

worse off! There are plenty of them, who are 
more necessary than he is, who die !" The Dau- 
phin bent down his eyes and tm-ned away his 
head, as if he would withdraw from his com- 
panions. Laurent interposed, saying, "It is 
true, the child is a little better ; but his knees 
and his wrists are terribly swollen, and he suf- 
fers a great deal. If he does not complain, that 
is because he is a little man. Isn't it so, Mon- 
sieur Charles .^" When the commissary heard 
these words, Monsieur Charles, he scowled, and 
said, "I thought the word Monsieur was m 
longer French." — " If it be but little used now 
adays,'' answered Laurent, " the people can't, 
I fancy, blot it out of the dictionary." At the 
beginning of the dinner the prince had enjoyed 
himself very much, and had eaten heartily. 
But, after the cruel words of the commissary, 
the child remained quiet and subdued, and 
would not touch any thing that was offered 
him. 

" If it is obstinacy which keeps him from eat- 
ing," remarked the commissary, " you ought to 
punish him, citizens. If he won't eat any thing 
here, you must send him up stairs and let him 
swallow the. smoke." His guardians tried to 
make some excuse for the child. " Well," said 
the commissary, "if he don't eat, he must 



174 The Bourbon Prince. 

drink ; fill up his glass, and let him drink a 
bumper to the prosperity of the republic." His 
glass was filled ; but he would not touch it. 

The dinner over, the prince was taken up 
into his room. Gromin had put aside for him 
a piece of pastry, and left it upon the child's 
table. He was surprised next morning to find 
it untouched, and found fault with him. " I 
would have accepted it from you," said the 
prince, " with great pleasure ; but that man 
cut it off, and it came from his dinner, and I 
would not have it any more than his wine." 
This commissary's cruel words had left a deep 
unpression upon the prince's mind. Gromin 
heard him repeat, a couple of days afterward, 
these words. There are plenty of them, more 
necessary than he is, who die ! 

Immediately subsequent to this, the prince's 
health began to decline more rapidly. He had 
frequent attacks of fever, and the swelling of 
his knees and wrists increased. His guardians 
were fearful of a fatal result, and asked per- 
mission to take him out into the garden. They 
were refused. 

The child was again frequently taken down 
by his guardians into their room below. He 
was, however, always timid and fearful of stran- 
gers. He remained speechless in their presence. 



The good Commissary. 175 

The fresh municipal officers never could get a 
word out of him. 

A commissary, by the name of Debierne, 
seemed, from the very first, to take a great in- 
terest in the prince. He allowed him to go out 
for a walk upon the platform of the tower, and 
passed himself a good portion of the day in his 
company. G-omin, who was timid, was seldom 
at his ease with any of the commissaries ; but 
the amiable disposition of Debierne won him 
over completely, and the greatest good feeling 
and confidence were at once established be- 
tween them. When they separated, after the 
service of Debierne had expired, they promised 
to see each other again. Accordingly, a few 
days afterward, Debierne returned to the Tem- 
ple, and asked for Gomin. He had brought 
some toys for the prince, and also some good 
news, which excited a hope in the breast of 
Gomin that there would soon be a movement 
in favor of the prince, and he be conveyed to 
his friends in La Vendee. 

Debierne was not the only person from with- 
out who was in communication with Gomin. 
A valet de chambre, a confidant of the Marquis 
De Fenouil, would often go to see him, in order 
to inquire after the young king. 

The prince became weaker every day. It 



176 The Bourbon Prince. 

was with great difficulty that he could be pre- 
vailed upon to leave his place at the corner of 
the fireside, and go out upon the tower. He 
could hardly walk, and G-omin and Laurent 
were now frequently obliged to carry him in 
their arms. His disease made rapid progress. 
The surgeon who attended him thought it nec- 
essary to report the state of his young patient 
to the government. The imminent danger of 
the young prince was announced. The mu- 
nicipal officers, upon being questioned as to par- 
ticulars, replied, that the young Capet had tu- 
mors upon all his joints, and especially upon 
his knees ; that it was impossible to get a word 
out of him ; and that, remaining seated, or in 
his bed the whole time, he refused to take any 
exercise. Being questioned as to the date of 
this obstinate silence, they stated that it was 
the 6th of October, 1793, the day on which Si- 
mon had extorted from the prince his signature 
against his mother ; but this was not so. We 
have seen that, although speechless before stran- 
gers, he yielded to the kind interest of his guar- 
dians, and occasionally spoke to them. 

The Committee of Public Safety, after hear- 
ing this report, appointed Harmand one of its 
members to investigate the state of the prince. 
The account of Harmand's visit to the Temple 



The Visit of Inspection. 177 

was not published until 1814, when Louis 
XYIII. was on the throne, and Harmand had 
been appointed a prefect of one of the depart- 
ments of France. It shows, of course, the 
change in the times, and assumes the courtly 
style of a loyal officer of the crown, in vogue 
at the time of the publication, and has none of 
the rude republican directness, which was prob- 
ably more in character with the member of the 
Convention at the period of his visit to the 
Temple. " We arrived," says the prefect, " at 
the door, the frightful lock of which was closed 
upon the innocent son, the only son of our king 
— our king himself." 

" The key turned in the lock with a great 
noise, and we entered the apartment, where we 
found the prince. He was seated by a square 
table, upon which there were a number of play- 
ing cards, some of which had been made into 
little boxes, and others built up into houses." 
Harmand goes on, after stating that the apart- 
ment was found in a cleanly and wholesome 
condition, to describe the interview with the 
young prisoner : "I approached the prince," 
says he, "but our movements did not seem to 
make the least impression upon him. I told 
him of the intentions of the government to take 
care of him, and to send him a physician, and 
M 



178 The Bourbon Prince. 

otherwise see to the supply of his wants. "While 
I was speaking to him, he looked at me fixedly, 
without changing his position, and seemed to 
listen with the greatest attention, but did not 
answer a word." Harmand says further, that 
to all his questions " there was the same fixed 
look, and not a word in answer." — " I asked 
him," continues Harmand, '' to give me his 
hand ; he did so, and, upon moving my hand 
along his arm, I found a tumor upon his vn'ist 
and one upon his elbow. I examined, also, 
his other arm, but found nothing ; I then felt 
his knees, and found on both of them, under 
the hams, the same kind of swelling as I had 
found upon his arm." Harmand, in his report, 
affects to have been very much surprised and 
horrified at the condition in which he found the 
prince, and professes to have had not only the 
best intentions of improving the state of the 
little prisoner, but to have done something to 
carry them out ; in fact, however, there was no 
change. There seems to be no doubt that the 
death of the young prince was resolved upon. 

Gromin did, however, all in his power to mit- 
igate the cruel captivity of the child. The pity 
he at first felt for his prisoner gave place in 
time to a warm affection: 

His guardian took advantage of the library 



A MOMENTARY HaPPINESS. 179 

in the Temple, of which we have spoken in our 
account of the king's captivity, and in which 
Louis XYI. sought a solace from the weariness 
and sadness of his imprisonment. He would 
frequently select a book for the prince to read. 
It was generally either one of the moral tales 
of Marmontel, or a volume of the History of 
France. The child had not forgotten to read, 
in spite of his long neglect and his deprivation 
of all opportunity of study. He still read with 
great clearness and correctness. One day he 
was perusing one of Marmontel's stories, which 
seemed strongly to engage his attention and in- 
terest. He read from the beginning to the end ; 
it was some sad history or other, which, like 
most stories, terminated happily. He seemed 
deeply affected by the melancholy beginning, 
and very much delighted with the joyful end- 
ing. He first wept freely, and then smiles 
would clear up his face, and all seem cheerful 
and happy as in the prince's early days. 

His old friend Debierne, the good-hearted 
commissary, came again to see Gromin ; and, as 
soon as he saw him, said, with an expression 
of great joy and satisfaction, " I have got a play- 
thing for our little friend." And, as he spoke, 
he opened his coat, and a pretty little turtle- 
dove thrust out its head. Gromin was some- 



180 The Bourbon Prince. 

what anxious about this gift, for fear it might 
give dissatisfaction to the municipal officer on 
duty, and bring blame upon him for his indul- 
gence to the prince. On the day of its arrival 
the commissary did not seem to be a very well- 
disposed person, and Gromin, always timid and 
fearful of being compromised, kept the dove be- 
low until the next day. The fresh commissary 
on the following morning had a more favorable 
aspect, and G-omin took courage, and carried 
the bird up into the tower. The prince did 
not seem to care for it. He was once very fond 
of little birds, but since his pet Canary had been 
the cause of so much wrong and ill treatment 
during the time of Simon, he had lost all fond- 
ness for them ; he did not seem to regard them. 
The turtle-dove died, and neither the prince nor 
Gromin regretted it. The latter was thus re- 
lieved of his fears of being compromised by the 
presence of the harmless bird. 

One day G-omin was walking in company 
with Debierne, who was on a visit to him, in the 
court-yard, when they met Lienard the steward, 
whose duty it was to supply the inhabitants of 
the tower with their meals. G-omin got up his 
courage sufficiently to remark to the steward, 
" How is it that, under the reign of equality, 
the children don't fare as well as we do ?" — " I 



Discipline versus Conscience. 181 

have my orders," he replied, " and I must obey 
them like a soldier." — " You are right," said 
Gomin, who was afraid of his shadow, and did 
not dare to push the subject. Debierne, who 
was as bold as a lion, put in, " Yes, Lienard, 
you are right; discipline first and foremost 
What is conscience in comparison with or- 
ders ?" As he passed on with Gromin, he con- 
tinued, " I have no patience with such fellows, 
who are always talking about orders, and who 
obey what man has written upon a piece of 
paper, instead of what G-od has inscribed upon 
the heart." 

This good fellow, Debierne, often came to the 
Temple, under the pretext of being a relative 
of Gromin. He could thus always obtain an 
entrance into the tower, in the apartment of 
the guardians below, and satisfy the affection- 
ate interest he took in the fate of the young 
captive. 

The commissary being sometimes away, and 
Laurent absent on a visit to his club, G-omin 
was enabled, without risk, to spend occasional- 
ly some time with the prince. He usually, at 
these times, played a game of checkers with 
him. The child had but little skill, but G-omin 
always managed to let himself be beaten. 

When the child was well enough, Gromin 



182 The Bourbon Prince. 

would sometimes take him up to the top of the 
great tower, where, in the vast hall there, they 
would have a game of battle-door and shuttle- 
cock, in which the prince was quite an expert. 
One evening, Laurent and the commissary 
being away, Gromin went up to sit with the 
prince, and proposed to him to read a book or 
play a game at checkers. The child, being en- 
couraged by the kindness of his guardian, got 
up, after he had been sitting some time with 
G-omin, and approached the door, without say- 
ing any thing, but with a suppliant look upon 
his face, as if he would ask permission to go. 
"That is not allowed, you know," said Gomin. 
" I wish to see her once more. Oh, do let me 
see her once more before I die, I beg and en- 
treat you I" G-omin took hold of the child's 
arm and led him back. The prince then threw 
himself on his bed, and remained there almost 
senseless and without moving. Gromin was 
alarmed at observing the state of the child, but 
he soon had the satisfaction of seeing him re- 
vive. His guardian said to him, " It is not my 
fault ; my duty prevents me. Speak to me, 
and tell me that you forgive me." The child 
burst into tears. " Monsieur Charles, do not 
cry so," said Gomin, " they will hear you." 
He became quiet at once. Gomin continued : 



Inhumanity of Collot. 183 

" You know the door is always kept fastened ; 
and if it were open, you would not go out, I am 
sure, when it would cost me my life." The 
prince shook his head, and there came over his 
face an expression of resigned grief. 

Some of the municipal officers were occasion- 
ally very brutal. One by the name of Collot, 
looking at the prince, and examining his eyes 
very minutely, remarked in his hearing, '' That 
child hasn't six decades to live. I tell you, 
citizens," said he, addressing himself to Gromin 
and Laurent, " that child will be an idiot be- 
fore six decades are over, if he don't give up 
the ghost before." 

In the evening Gromin tried to console the 
prince, and destroy the effect of the brutal re- 
marks he had heard. The child, as he listened to 
the kind and gentle words of his guardian, could 
not restrain his tears, and he sighed out these 
words : " Yet I have never injured any one !" 

Laurent left the Temple on the 29th of March, 
1795. He had requested to be relieved from 
his duties in the tower, and his request was 
granted. He was much regretted by all about 
the Temple, for he was a great favorite. When 
he took leave of the prince, the child grasped 
his hand warmly, and saw him depart with a 
feeling of sad regret. 



Chapter XII. 

FTIHE new guardian, the successor of Lau- 
. -*- rent, was a person by the name of Lasne. 
He was a house-painter by trade. He was a 
good-natured man ; and although not, perhaps, 
as soft-hearted as G-omin, he had a great deal 
more force of character. Lasne was informed 
of his appointment by a message from the po- 
lice, and, not repairing immediately to his new 
post, was waited upon by a couple of gens- 
d'armes, who took him off at once to the 
Temple. 

Lasne had been a soldier, and had the pre- 
cise air and the fixed manners of one brought 
up in the ranks. He was a thin person, about 
five feet seven inches in height. He held him- 
self straight and upright, like a man accustom- 
ed to the drill. He had a frank, open face, and 
was a kind-hearted person, though very much 
of a strict disciplinarian. 

Lasne's rigid manner and severe military look 
made them suppose at first, in the tower, that hf 
was another enemy sent by the revolutionary 
committees to torture and tyrannize over the 



Lasne. 185 

young prisoners ; but he soon proved himself 
very different from what his appearance seemed 
to indicate. 

The care of the children belonged to the two 
guardians in common, but Lasne devoted him- 
self more particularly to the prince, while the 
princess fell to the charge of Gromin. 

Lasne, when on guard at the Tuileries, had 
often seen the little prince, and now recognized 
him at once ; and, although alarmed by the 
state of the child's health, he did not find him 
so much changed but that he could perfectly 
distinguish his features, which were familiar to 
him. His head, and the outlines of his face, 
were not at all altered. His complexion, how- 
ever, was pale, his shoulders high, his chest 
contracted, his legs small and weak, and he 
had large swellings upon his right knee and his 
left wrist. 

On the next day after the arrival of Lasne in 
the Temple, he began his duties with the desire 
of impressing the prince with the idea that he 
was rather his servant than his jailer. He suc- 
ceeded Gomin in the kind care he took of the 
child, washing and combing him, and brush- 
ing his clothes. Although the prince was at 
first frightened at the stranger, he still readily 
submitted to the offices of Lasne, and eyed 



186 The Bourbon Prince. 

him attentively, without, however, saying a 
word. 

G-ourlet, the turnkey, coming up into the 
tower with the dinner, on the second day of 
Lasne's arrival, made his usual noise in turn- 
ing the locks and jangling the keys. " Why 
lo you make such a racket?" asked Lasne. 
" Citizen," answered he, '' some of the commis- 
saries order me to do so ; others, again, think 
it useless ; so I supposed it did not matter." — 
"I advise you," said Lasne, "to make less noise 
for the future, and to put some oil into the locks. 
I, for my part, don't see any necessity in lock- 
ing all these three doors." 

The turnkey did as Lasne ordered ; but the 
commissary on duty next day asked him why 
he left all the doors open. " Because," answer- 
ed Grourlet, " Citizen Lasne told me to do so." 
— " These doors," said the commissary, " are 
made to be closed, and we must obey the orders 
of the Convention. Don't forget to lock the 
doors, as heretofore." Lasne was present, but 
did not say any thing, thinking it prudent to be 
silent. 

With all Lasne's kindness and attention to 
the prince, he was not able, for three whole 
weeks, to get a word from him. The child re- 
mained silent in his presence, and received 



Past Recollections. 187 

his attentions without apparently appreciating 
them. His new guardian was untiring in his 
services. He went up early in the morning 
to the prince's room, and seldom left the child 
the whole day, except for his meals. He did 
every thing in his power to enliven and amuse 
him. When the weather permitted, he would 
give him his arm, and take him out for an hour 
or so upon the platform. The prince walked 
with difficulty, and with a limp. Lasne used 
to support him ; and the child would express 
his thanks by a look, a gesture, or a single 
word. 

When the weather was bad, Lasne would 
play at cards or dominoes with the prince. As 
they were thus engaged one day, Lasne remind- 
ed the prince of a present he had received, while 
colonel of his little regiment, from his comrades, 
of a beautiful box of dominoes. It was a mas- 
ter-piece of its kind. The box was made out of 
a single piece of wood, and the dominoes out of 
a piece of marble taken from the remains of 
the Bastile. On each domino there was a let- 
ter in gold, which letters, when put together^ 
formed this inscription: '^Vive le roil vive la 
reine et M. le Dauphin .'" The child's face 
brightened with delight when Lasne recalled 
to the memory of the prince the circumstances 



188 The Bourbon Prince. 

of this gift, and all the particulars of that occa- 
sion. Lasne succeeded, by these means, in 
awakening occasional gleams of happiness in 
the dark life of the child, and in making him 
forget for a while his sufferings, if he did not 
succeed in removing them. 

The prince never tired of listening to his 
guardian's constant allusions to the little regi- 
ment, of which the Dauphin was once so proud, 
and in which he had borne a part in the happy 
days of his earlier childhood. The prince's eyes 
brightened with pleasure when Lasne would 
descant upon the excellent discipline of the fa- 
mous Lilliputian troop, and tell how it had once 
manoeuvred like a veteran band, and how the 
colonel himself would have become a brave and 
skillful leader, worthy of the command. The 
child would then lift up his head and ask, 
" Did you ever see me with my sword ?" His 
guardian recollected having seen him, with 
his sword by his side, at the Tuileries, and 
would tell him so. The prince, however, was 
not satisfied until he had inquired what had be- 
come of it. Lasne thought it had been destroy- 
ed, during the sacking of the Tuileries, by the 
revolutionary mob. This sword, however, still 
exists, and is preserved in the Museuip of Ar- 
tillery in Paris, where it can now be seen, with 



LiTTE Capet dangerously III. 189 

its agate handle, and its silver guard, set with 
rubies, with this inscription on it : " Sword of 
Louis XYIL" 

Lasne would occasionally sing, for the amuse- 
ment of the prince, some little songs or other, 
with which he seemed to be much pleased, and 
sometimes laughed. But whenever his guard- 
ian struck up a revolutionary ditty, the little 
prince would turn away his head, or shrug his 
shoulders and pout. 

The disease that was destroying the child, 
which was at first slow in its progress, began 
now to make more rapid strides. The prince 
bore up less and less against his increasing 
weakness. The fatal moment was approaching. 

It was thought necessary to inform the gov- 
ernment of the danger of the prince. His guard- 
ians wrote upon the register which was daily 
submitted to the authorities, '' The little Capet 
is unwell.'''' No notice was taken of this state- 
ment. Next day it was thought necessary to 
repeat it with more emphasis, and consequently 
they wrote, " The little Capet is dangerously 
ill.'''' Still there was no attention given to it, 
and lastly, there was added to the " danger- 
ously ill.,'''' " There are fears of his lifeP 

On the 6th of May, 1795, M. Dessault, an em- 
inent surgeon of Paris, was summoned by the 



190 The Bourbon Prince. 

government to attend the prisoner. On his ar- 
rival at the tower, he examined the prince for 
a long time, and very carefully. He could get 
no answer from him, and did nothing for the 
patient but order some simple remedies. M. 
Dessault did not express himself freely in re- 
gard to the prince's state before the officers in 
the tower, but afterward was less reserved. He 
did not hesitate to declare that he ought to have 
been sent for sooner. He was of opinion that 
the prince was affected, to a certain degree, 
with the same scrofulous disease that his broth- 
er had died of at Meudon ; that the disease, 
however, had not made such progress as to be 
necessarily fatal ; that none of the more severe 
symptoms had yet appeared. The true disease 
of which the child was prematurely dying was 
a wasting away, in consequence of confinement 
and grief. Dessault proposed that he should be 
immediately sent into the country, where, he 
hoped, with change of scene, fresh air, good 
treatment, and great care, he might revive. 

The next day, about nine o'clock, Dessault 
repeated his visit to the prince. He did noth- 
ing more than on the previous day, with the 
exception of ordering some simple application 
for his tumors. As he was about leaving, Gro- 
min asked him if he should not try and make 



Rumors of Freedom. 191 

him walk out. Dessault replied, " How is it 
possible, when every step he takes gives him 
intense pain ? It is true, he wants air, but it 
should be the air of the country." 

They had great difficulty in prevailing upon 
the little patient to take his medicine. On the 
first day his resolution could not be broken, not- 
withstanding that Gromin himself took, on two 
or three occasions, a full dose of the physic. 
He was at last induced, by repeated solicita- 
tions and entreaties, to take his medicine from 
Lasne, saying, as he did so, " You have sworn 
that I shall take it ; then I will. Give it to 
me ; I will take it." Ever afterward he re- 
ceived, without any objection, whatever was or- 
dered him. 

It was rumored that, in the treaty entered 
into between the Vendeans and the victorious 
republic, a secret clause had been negotia- 
ted and ratified, to the effect that the young 
prince should be delivered up to the army and 
his friends of La Vendee. The committees 
eagerly denounced the report as calumnious. 
There was no intention of delivering up the 
royal prisoner. Other rumors were busily cir- 
culated. Among others, that the prince was 
to be crowned King of Poland. These stories 
were the subject of general talk every where ; 



192 The Bourbon Prince. 

and it besfan even to be believed in Paris that 
the prince had escaped from prison. On one 
occasion, the commander of the military post 
of the Temple insisted upon seeing the little 
Capet. " The National Gruard," said he " guard 
the Temple, and I want to know who it is we 
guard." Lasne and Gromin had no orders, and 
therefore could not comply with his demand. 

In spite of these rumors, which seated him 
as king on a throne in one place, and as the head 
of an army in another, the poor prince was in 
his prison, a sick child, whose life was fast ebb- 
ing away. 

His weakness now became extreme. It gave 
him too much pain, and he was too feeble, to 
walk. Lasne used to carry him out, however, 
upon the platform of the tower, on every fine 
day. 

On the battlement which flanked the plat- 
form, a hollow, like a basin, had been made by 
the constant dripping of the water for centuries. 
The sparrows used to come to drink, and bathe, 
and frolic in this basin, that was always filled 
with water. They had become very tame, and 
would allow the prince to approach them quite 
near. He got quite attached to them, and used 
to call them his birds. From the platform noth- 
ing could be seen but the sky. It can be con- 



He is a dead Child. 193 

ceived, then, wViat delight the prince took in the 
companionship of his constant little feathered 
friends, the sparrows. 

His sister, the princess, seemed to have a 
forewarning of the approaching fate of her 
brother, and was unceasing in her inquiries of 
the guardians, and officers about his health ; but 
she could get, in return to her questions, noth- 
ing but vague answers, which served to in- 
crease her fears and anguish. M. Hue, the old 
attendant of Louis XVI., solicited permission 
to go to the aid of the young prince, but was 
denied, 

M. Dessault found he could do nothing for 
the young prince. What was necessary, free- 
dom of life and the pure air of heaven, were re- 
fused. During M. Dessault's attendance for a 
fortnight, no benefit was received by the prince. 
His weakness and prostration increased. The 
child did not speak, but he expressed by his 
face and his gestures, catching M. Dessault by 
the coat, or grasping his hand, an overflowing 
gratitude for the constant care and gentle at- 
tentions of his good physician. 

One day, as Dessault was going, the officer 
on duty remarked to him, " He is a dead child, 
is he not?" — "I fear so," replied Dessault; 
" but there are some, perhaps, who hope so.*" 
N 



194 The Bourbon Prince. 

The commissary on duty on the 31st of May 
was a person by the name of Bellanger, who 
had been an artist. He brought with him his 
port-folio, and took pleasure in showing his 
sketches to the prince, who turned them over 
with evident marks of delight. " I would like," 
said Bellanger, " to add another sketch to my 
collection ; but I will not do so, unless you like 
it."— .''What sketch?" asked the Dauphin. 
" Your face. It would give me great pleasure 
to take it, if you are willing." — " "Would give 
you great pleasure !" said the child, and he 
smiled, and gave, in his amiable manner, a 
silent consent. 

Bellanger drew the profile of the young king 
with a lead-pencil ; and it was from this por- 
trait that, twenty years after, the bust of the 
prince was executed. 

M. Dessault did not come any more ; and, 
upon inquiry, it was found that he had died of 
typhus fever on the 1st of June. His sudden 
death had given rise to many rumors. By some 
it was said that he had poisoned the prince by 
means of a slow poison, and had afterward been 
poisoned himself by those who commanded the 
murder. The character of Dessault was such 
as to place him, in the opinion of those who knew 
him, beyond the suspicion of so dreadful a crime. 



Death op Dessault. 195 

Moreover, there was no medicine administered 
to the prince which was not first tasted by his 
guardians. On the other hand, it was rumored 
that M. Dessault had not recognized in his young 
patient in the tower the royal prince, and that 
he was poisoned by the authorities in conse- 
quence of having declared that he would make 
known the fact. M. Dessault, however, who 
had been physician to the royal children, never 
doubted for a moment that his patient was the 
Dauphin. 

In consequence of the death of Dessault, the 
prince remained for six days without any med- 
ical attendant. His guardians were fearful of 
taking any step without orders. Finally, the 
Committee of Public Safety summoned M. 
Pelletan to continue the medical treatment of 
the young Capet. " I found him," says M 
Pelletan, " in such a sad state, that I determined 
to ask at once for some one to consult with, as 
I was unwilling to take upon my head the whole 
responsibility." Sent for at the last moment, 
and finding his patient in a hopeless condition, 
M, Pelletan could do nothing for the prince. He 
was now beyond the reach of his art. He did, 
however, what he could to relieve him. He 
insisted upon the removal of all the locks and 
keys, and the free opening of the windows. "If 



196 The Bourbon Prince. 

you can not," said M. Pelletan, in rather a loud 
and angry tone, " remove these locks, you can, 
at any rate, remove the child into another room." 
The prince, aroused by the angry tones of the 
physician, made a sign to him to come to him. 
" Speak lower," said the child ; "I am afraid 
they will hear you up stairs, and I would not 
like them to know I am ill ; it would give them 
so much pain." The child was carried, in the 
arms of Gomin, into another room, which was 
a well-aired chamber, with a large window, 
with no iron bars, but with cheerful white cur- 
tains, through which the sky could be seen, and 
the rays of the sun pass. How great a change 
for the prince, who had been so long shut up in 
a dungeon ! His expression was full of happi- 
ness and of gratitude. From eight o'clock at 
night to eight o'clock in the morning, the child 
was, as usual, left to himself. 

On the morning of the 6th of June, Lasne 
was the first to reach his room. He applied the 
usual application to his wrist and knee, and 
gave him a spoonful of his medicine, which he 
took readily. Lasne, thinking him better, 
lifted him out of bed. When Pelletan, the 
physician, arrived, he felt the prince's pulse, and 
did not prescribe any thing more ; he merely 
said to the child, " Do you like this room ?" — 



Physicians in Consultation. 197 

"Oh, yes, very much," answered the child, in 
a feeble voice. 

About two o'clock Gomin carae up with the 
prince's dinner. He was accompanied by the 
new commissary for the day, a man by the 
name of Hebert. The child rose from his pil- 
low^, took a little soup, and then laid himself 
down again, as if fatigued by the effort, while 
now and then he would put out his little hand 
to take some cherries he had put upon his bed. 
The Citizen Hebert, addressing himself to Gro- 
min, said, "Where is your order for moving 
the young whelp? show it to me!" — "We have 
no order but that of the physician ; he will tell 
you himself to-morrow that it was necessary, 
and that he ordered it." — " How long is it since 
these saiu bodies have governed the republic ? 
You must get an order, do you understand, from 
the committee." When the child heard these 
harsh words, he dropped his cherries and covered 
up his hand. 

On the next day M. Dumangin, another phy- 
sician, came to the tower to consult with M. 
Pelletan, according to the request of the latter, 
They learned, on their arrival, that the little 
patient had had a fainting fit. They found him 
very weak, and evidently fast passing away. 
They could do nothing. They expressed their 



198 The Bourbon Prince. 

surprise and indignation that the sick child was 
left alone during the night. They were, how- 
ever, told that it was in accordance with the 
strict orders of the government. The physi- 
cians immediately, in their bulletin, insisted 
upon their patient being supplied with a nurse. 
The physicians, ordering a little sugar and 
water for their patient, in case he should be 
thirsty and desire a drink, took their leave, 
having no hope for the young prince. M. Pel- 
letan thought the child would not live past the 
next day. M. Dumangin was of opinion that 
he would survive some days longer. It was 
agreed between them that on the next morning 
M. Pelletan should visit their patient at nine 
o'clock, and M. Dumangin at eleven. 

In the evening, at supper-time, G-omin was 
agreeably surprised to find the prince somewhat 
better : his complexion seemed more clear, his 
eye brighter, and his voice somewhat stronger. 
" Is it you ?" asked the child, with an expression 
of pleasure, as soon as his guardian entered. 
^•You don't suffer so much?" said Gromin. 
" Not so much," answered the prince. " It is," 
continued his guardian, " owing to this room ; 
there is plenty of light and air here, and the phy- 
sicians have been here and cheered you up." 
The child remained quiet for a moment, then a 



Worse and Worse. 199 

tear rolled down his cheek, and he sobbed out, 
^'Always alone ! my mother is kept in the other 
tower !" 

Gromin answered, '' Yes, it is true, you are 
alone; it is very sad; but you are better here 
than where you were." Gromin then informed 
him of one of the municipal officers, who had 
often been on duty in the tower, having been 
arrested and put in prison. " I am sorry," said 
the prince ; ''is it here that he is ?" — " No ; at 
La Force." The prince, pausing for some time, 
then exclaimed, '' I am sorry for him, for he is 
more miserable than we are ; he deserves his 
misfortune." 

At night, again, the sick child was, by the 
rules of the Temple, forced to remain all alone. 
Lasne again was the first to ascend in the morn- 
ing to the young prince's quarters. G-omin was 
fearful of going first, lest he should find the 
child dead. The physicians arrived at the ap- 
pointed time. The little patient was sitting 
up when Pelletan arrived. The visit was a 
short one. The prince, finding himself exhaust- 
ed, soon asked to be put to bed again. Lasne 
thought him better, but the report of the phy- 
sician undeceived him. Dumangin, the other 
doctor, arrived at eleven o'clock, and found the 
child in bed, and, though he was much ex- 
fiausted, he exhibited toward his physician a 



200 The Bourbon Prince. 

great deal of gratitude and kind feeling ; he was 
by no means disposed to conaplain or find fault. 
The joint bulletin of the two doctors, issued at 
eleven o'clock, reported the patient in a very 
dangerous condition. 

M. Dumangin having left, Gomin took his 
place by the bedside of the Dauphin, but did 
not for a long time speak a word to him, for 
fear of wearying him. However, at last Gromin 
remarked, " How unhappy I am to see you suf- 
fering." — "Console yourself," said the child, 
" I shall not always suffer so." Gromin, who 
was a man of strong devotional feeling, kneeled 
by the prince's bedside and prayed earnestly. 
The child took his guardian's hand and pressed 
it to his lips. 

Gromin, observing the child calm, motionless, 
and silent, said to him, " I hope you are not 
suffering at present ?"— " Oh, yes, I am suffer- 
ing, but much less ; the music is so sweet !'^ 

There was no music either in the tower or in 
the neighborhood ; no noise from without at this 
moment reached the chamber where the young 
prince was dying. Gromin, surprised, asked 
him, "Where do you hear the music?" — 
" Above !" — " How long since ?" — " Since you 
have been on your knees. Don't you hear it ? 
Listen ! listen !" And the child raised his fee- 
ble arm, and opened his large eyes lighted up 



Dying, 201 

with ecstasy. His poor guardian, not wishing 
to destroy this sweet and heavenly illusion, set 
himself to listen also with the pious desire of 
hearing what could not be heard. 

After some moments of attention, the child 
started again, his eyes glistened, and he ex- 
claimed in an inexpressible transport, " In the 
midst of all the voices I heard my mother's I" 

This word mother seemed, as it fell from the 
orphan's lips, to remove all his pain. His con- 
tracted brows expanded, and his countenance 
brightened up with that ray of serenity which 
gives assurance of deliverance or victory. With 
his eye fixed upon a vision, his ear listening to 
the distant music of one of those concerts that 
human ear has never heard, there appeared to 
spring forth in his child's soul another existence. 

An instant afterward, the brilliancy of his 
eye became extinguished, he crossed his arms 
upon his breast, and an expression of sinking 
showed itself upon his face. 

G-omin observed him closely, and followed 
with an anxious eye every movement. His 
breathing was no longer painful ; his eye alone 
seemed slowly to wander, looking from time to 

time toward the window Gromin 

asked him what it was he was looking at in 
that direction. The child looked at his guard- 
ian a moment, and although the question was 



202 The Bourbon Prince. 

repeated, he seemed not to understand it, and 
did not answer. 

Lasne came up from below to relieve Gromin. 
The latter went out, his heart oppressed, but 
not more anxious than on the evening before, 
for he did not expect an immediate termination. 
Lasne took his seat near the bed ; the prince 
regarded him for a long time with a fixed and 
dreamy look. When he made a slight move- 
ment, Lasne asked him how he was, and if he 
wanted any thing. The child said, " Do you 
think that my sister has heard the music ? how 
happy it would have made her !" Lasne was 
unable to answer. The eager and penetrating 
look, full of anguish, of the dying child darted 
toward, the window. An exclamation of hap- 
piness escaped his lips ; then, looking toward 
his guardian, he said, " I have one thing to tell 
you." .... Lasne approached and took 
his hand ; the little head of the prisoner fell 
upon his guardian's breast, who listened to him, 
but in vain. His last words had been spoken. 
Lasne put his hand upon the heart of the child : 
the heart of Louis XVIL had ceased to beat. 
It was a quarter past two o'clock in the after- 
noon of the 8th day of June, 1795. 

The End. 



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Two Years before the Mast ; 

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H 206 7 9 ^ 







^>-Sc:~. •*- 



